Dark Things Silent
by Mirkwood
Summary: Pre- LOTR. A strange power is rising in Mirkwood, but whose side is it on? In the depths of Thranduil's palace, Legolas and Aragorn are about to find out. Chapter Nine! In which things become even more murky...
1. Chapter One

Author's Note: This is my first fan fiction story, so please have mercy! (Chuckles) Main characters. will be revaled hereafter. Disclaimer: I don't claim any of these characters, except for Derek and the men from Dale, Tolkien owns the elves and the lost king of Gondor, lucky guy! Some of the descripts come directly from "The Hobbit"- you'll be able to tell the difference. Poem is Tolkien's as well. Man, isn't there anything left for me???

The wind was on the withered heath,

But in the forest stirred no leaf:

There shadows lay by night and day

And dark things silent crept beneath…

They walked in single file. The entrance to the path was like a sort of arch leading into a gloomy tunnel made by two great trees that leant together, too old and strangled with ivy and hung with lichen to bear more than a few blackened leaves. The path itself was narrow was wound in and out among the trunks. Soon the light at the gate was like a little bright hole far behind, and the quiet was so deep that their feet seemed to thump along while all the tress leaned over them and listened.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, otherwise known as Strider, led the company of men along the centuries- old forest path. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the six men scramble through the underbrush, nervously glancing into the greeny- blackness surrounding them on either side. Night was falling in Mirkwood. Bows and swords drawn, they forged on, despite the chills creeping up and down their spines. Every so often, he threw back an encouraging smile, willing his men forward. He knew they were afraid.

     "Strider!"

The man stopped, cocking his ear in the direction of the speaker. He motioned him closer, while indicating that the others remain on guard, as they continued to make their way through the dense underbrush. Strider drew the first man aside.

     "What is it?" he asked softly.

     "Strider, something's wrong. Following this path any farther with take us straight into the halls of the elvenking."

     "I know."

 The man continued in a low, urgent tone. "I think we should stay away from the mountains."

     "We must go where the trail leads us. Even to the elvenking."

     "You are quick to form alliances, my friend." 

Strider stiffened, surprised at the sarcasm in the other's voice. He looked into the eyes of his friend; they were heavy with concern and contempt. 

     "How do you know you can trust these creatures?"

     "Creatures! Derek, they are not-"

     "Strider! Derek! Come quickly!"

An urgent voice called out of the darkness. Thinking his friends were in danger, Strider drew his sword, motioning for Derek to follow. Hearts pounding, they raced ahead to join their companions. Stumbling through the underbrush, they followed the sound of the voice until they reached a small clearing where some trees had been felled and leveled to the ground. The stumps were arranged in a great circle, some thirty feet wide in circumference. Their five companions stood waiting at the edge of the circle, eyes scrutinizing the area in ill- concealed awe. Between the circle of tree trunks, they recognized the scattered remains of a large bonfire- the remnants of a colossal feast. Strider knelt, pressing the soft petals of a lily blossom between his rough fingers. Derek stood by his side, sword drawn, sniffing the air suspiciously.

     "Whoever they are, they've not been long away from this place. Maybe an hour."

     "Will they come back, do you think?" One man asked nervously.

Strider stood up, sheathing his sword. "Perhaps-"

     "It matters not," Derek interrupted, "We should press on before it gets too late."

     "I agree with you completely," Strider returned, with a sidelong glance at his friend. And he led the party out of the clearing.

As the men glanced from side to side, they noticed there was a greenish light about them, and in places, they could see some distance to either side of the path. Yet the light only showed them endless lines of straight grey trunks like the pillars of some huge twilight hall. There was a breath of air and a noise of wind, but it had a sad sound. A few leaves came rustling down to remind them that outside autumn was coming on. Their feet ruffled among the dead leaves of countless other autumns that drifted over the banks of the path from the deep red carpets of the forest.

Derek distrusted the forest. He distrusted the silence. He distrusted the breathing of the trees over his head. He distrusted the myriad of eyes peering out at them from the shadows. He distrusted the path they were taking. He distrusted the greeny light that was growing in intensity, they nearer they came to the mountains. The light that shone but did not penetrate the suffocating darkness that overwhelmed his mind. His head pounded; he nearly moaned aloud, if only those accursed voices would stop- 

Derek stopped dead in his tracks, listening for all he was worth. Voices. 

His companions, either unaware or choosing to ignore it, continued on. Derek stared long and hard into the trees, straining his eyes, as if daring them to reveal their secret. Slowly, he drew his sword from its sheath, and held it fiercely. Strider and the others were far ahead, and the forest fell silent, muting the sound of their footfalls. Derek listened; held his breath. But all he could hear was the rustling of the leaves under his feet, the sigh of the wind above, the pounding of his heart, the labored sound of his own breath…

Stop. Derek was holding his breath. Still the sound continued, soft, rhythmic, constant…someone, or something was breathing. As if in slow motion, Derek turned, head first, then torso, then his hold body, until his sword point swung around and pointed directly at the chest of a tall, slender man standing still as stone behind him. He did not move, or speak, or lift his head, while his eyes were cast irrevocably downward, staring fixedly at the questing point of Derek's sword. Derek raised the weapon, until it came to rest just underneath the man's chin, which he lifted, so as to meet his gaze.

         "What are you doing, following me like a theif?" he demanded.

The man did not reply, only blinked, as if he had not heard.

         "Do you speak, elf?" Derek sneered the last word.

When he received no answer, Derek felt his temper rising.

         "What is your name? Shall I run you through with my sword?"

At this, the elf slowly began to smile, a small, self- assured smile. He met the questioning gaze in Derek's eyes.

         "Look behind you," he said softly.

As warning bells clanged inside his head, Derek struggled to control his curiosity. 

         "That's the oldest trick in the book."

 Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Derek saw several figures racing down the path towards them. Once again, his hear began pounding. If he was surrounded, he was not sure he could fight his way out of an army of elves single-handedly, in the middle of a haunted forest, with his friends getting farther away by the second. Tensing himself for an ambush, he turned to attack-

         "Strider!"

         "Derek! What are you doing-"

  Realizing his mistake in a split second, Derek whirled back to face his prisoner- 

 But was met with only laughter from above, in the trees. Angrily, Derek thrust his sword upward, and the person above moved to accommodate.

        "Yes," the musical voice continued, "It is the oldest trick in the book. That's why I knew it would work on you."


	2. Chapter Two

My little note: A slight revision to the end of Chapter One. See Chapter One for details. (Cheekily smiles) Also, Thanks to my lucky reviewers! Review my story, and good may come to you! 

Chapter Two- How to get an Elf out of a Tree

         "How do you know my name, Creature?" Derek demanded, stabbing his sword upward in vain.

 The elf jumped lightly to another branch, settling into a more comfortable position.

 "Strider told me."

  Derek glanced at Strider, mouth agape. "You did?"

Ages ago," the elf continued with a short laugh. Strider nodded in agreement, then called up into the trees something in a language that Derek did not understand. The elf replied in kind, while Derek stood by, and tried to catch the gist of the conversation. After a few minutes of trying to look as if he understood, Derek gave up, in favor of examining their surroundings. The pale green light, which had so unnerved him before, now fell across the three like a blanket. Derek almost reached out to touch it, as if it was something he could hold in his hand. Beyond the edges of the light, which only continued for a few feet on each side, darkness creeping between the trees of the wood. Derek looked up, but the spaces between the trees above were filled only with dark sky. And stars. Thousands of stars. Derek breathed softly into the air, watching as the leaves fluttered above his head, straining against their weak bonds. There was nothing but trees, as far as the eye could see. And the shadows dancing across the forest like living things. And the eyes within the shadows. The eyes… Derek felt an involuntary chill creeping up his spine. He stayed within the circle of light, an island of hope amidst that sea of darkness. The rest of the men had now joined them under the tree, huddled together, while trying to look very brave, they were obviously confused. Why had they stopped , and who was Strider talking to, and why? And, as usual, they were looking to Derek for an explanation. He shrugged, trying to appear in control of the situation.

    "It's one of those creatures," he started to explain, when Strider cut him off in mid- sentence.

    "Derek. Say elves."

    "Eeeelvvves," he echoed dramatically. The lithe figure above shook with laughter.

    "Very good!"

Derek threw an irritated glance upward, into the branches of the tree, which was as close as he could get to the source of his continual embarrassment. 

    "Will you come down?" Strider was asking the elf.

    "So your friend can skewer me with that dinner fork of his? I think not!"

 Strider raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "He is my responsibility. I promise he won't hurt you."

     The elf sniffed disdainfully. "Promises." He stood up, balancing on a forked branch just above their heads. "Well," he pointed a long finger at Derek, "Throw your weapon over there." Then, as an afterthought, "The rest of you too. Then I'll come down."

Derek noted that he said this as if he were doing them all a favor, instead of satisfying his own curiosity. iArrogant Elves/i 

There was a murmur of disagreement at the command; the men looked to Strider for support, but were only greeted with a non- committal, "Do as he says."

While the rest of the men reluctantly obeyed, Derek solely refused to lay down his weapon. Strider entreated him several times, but to no avail.

     "I didn't sign up to take orders from a creat- an elf!"

 Strider sighed long- sufferingly, rolling his eyes upward as if seeking guidance. "Derek, as your superior, I personally ask you to lay down your weapon."

 Derek did not blink.

      "As your friend."

The elf shifted to another branch. Derek watched in silence. 

      "As a great, great favor, Derek."

      "Strider," the elf spoke in a confidential whisper that was loud enough for all to hear. "Try money. It always works."

This remark was greeted by a few sniggers from the men. Derek whirled to glare at them, but his effort to silence them only resulted in louder chuckles and sniggers.

      "For money," Strider said, struggling to keep a straight face.

Derek blinked, an unreadable expression on his face. 

      "Price, Strider," the elf goaded, jumping to another limb. "Give him a price."

 Strider looked blank, unsure of what to ask. He shrugged nonchalantly. "Whatever he asks."

There was a chorus of knowing aaaaahs from the men, some clapped Derek on the shoulder, urging him to obey the request and reminding him of their long-term friendship. Strider smiled, obviously enjoying Derek's discomfort. Meanwhile the elf sat above their heads with a satisfied expression, as if his one, chief joy in the world was to see a mortal feeling uncomfortable. Finally, Derek sighed his best I-have-better-things-to-do sigh, raising his hands for quiet. His voice was tinged with pride as he spoke.

      "No, price, no love, no loyalty will ever induce me to part with my sword, if I do not deem it necessary."

 The elf swung onto a branch directly above Derek's head. "It is not necessary for you to part from your sword, Master Derek. Just move over there where I told you and carry your sword with you."

The men roared with laugher at this, and Derek flushed with irritation. He looked to his right. Even Strider was laughing.

Embarrassed and irritated, Derek sheathed his sword and walked away from the group, muttering threats under his breath.

The elf jumped out of the tree as soon as Derek was gone, greeting Strider and the men heartily. Derek noticed, from his position about twenty feet away, that the elf was evidently at ease among the men, and talked as if they were old friends. Without looking interested, he took in the elf from the corner of his eye, it was, after all, the first elf he had ever seen. Contrary to popular opinion, this elf was tall. Very tall. He was slender, but strong, graceful, but masculine. He moved fluidly, and, as Derek noticed with distaste, constantly. 

The elf flicked a strand of blonde hair over his shoulder, eyes sparkling curiously. This group of tired, dirty, well- traveled mortals was a rare sight in Mirkwood. Most of the men were from Dale, as he understood from their accents and clothing. He glanced over his shoulder at the one called Derek, who looked away right on cue. The elf shrugged, muttering something about the effect of travel on men's tempers.

     "What brings you this far into Mirkwood?" he questioned the others. "Men of Dale seldom visit these parts."

Strider put an arm on his friend's shoulder. "That," he said, "Is a tale for another day. But now, I was hoping you could lead us to your father's halls."

Derek pricked up his ears. iYour father's halls? Who was his father?/i

     "Of course I can," said the elf, "But that doesn't mean I will. As we all know," his eyes sparkled with mischief, "My father is not over fond of humans. Hmm. Perhaps I should surprise him."

     "Legolas, don't do anything that will come back to haunt you later. We can fend for ourselves if it's too much trouble."

iLegolas/i Derek made a mental note of the name. Mental notes could come in handy when it was time for revenge.

     Legolas was giving Strider a long-suffering look. "My dear friend Strider. Everything comes back to haunt me," he paused for a moment, and a shadow of something unreadable flashed across his eyes. Then he smiled. "And as for fending for yourself, well, we all know what a wonderful job you're doing."

     After dutifully toying with the idea for the space of about half an hour, Legolas had agreed to take them as far as Thranduil's halls. Once he had pointed out the trail they would be taking, he fell into step between Strider, who walked in front, and Derek, who walked beside him. Apologetically, he held out his hand.

       "Truce?" he requested.

Derek, surprised, took the proffered hand. "Truce."

       "Excellent. So, Derek of Lasgalen, how are you this fine day?"

Strider, who had been observing the trees as they walked, paused in his meditation to listen. He knew that tone of voice. It was the elf-wanting-information voice.

        "Uh, I'm doing very well, thank you."

        "Are you enjoying Mirkwood?" Legolas did his best imitation of a benevolent smile.

        "Well, yes."

        "You are just being polite, Master Derek. Tell me what you really think."

Derek sighed, his eyes growing distant. "I cannot help but hope we may finish this quest soon, so that I may return to my family."

        "You have a family?"

        "Yes. A wife, and two children."

        "I see." Legolas nodded understandingly. "And what keeps you from returning to them?"

        "Well, we're on a mission, you see. Four days ago our village was attacked by a-"

        "Legolas," Strider cleared his throat unceremoniously. "You should really stop."

With a cry of irritation, Legolas rounded on him. "Strider, you really have no right to talk. Here am I, far from home, minding my own business, when I suddenly find myself at sword point, which by the way Derek, I have not forgiven you for, and yet I have mercy upon you, invite you to my home-"

        "I practically begged you, Legolas, you know that."

        "I invite you to my home, and the least you can do is tell me what you're doing in my father's forest, but you won't. Now, the question is why?" And he folded his arms, tapping his foot impatiently. "I can't operate on little or no information, Strider."

   Derek did a double take. "Your father's forest? Your father is Thranduil?"

        "Yes," the elf said impatiently, as if it was something everyone in the world should know. "Took you long enough. It's because I'm not lugging my royal followers around these days. But believe it or not, they do exist. Strider?"

Strider rolled his eyes upward, and mouthed the word "patience." After a few seconds of silence, he shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "Alright, alright. Calm down and I'll tell you what happened…"

TBC


	3. Chapter Three

Author's Note: To Whom It May Concern, I have just had a revelation. I was thinking about chapter one, and how Derek was supposed to be from Lasgalen, right? Then I realized what I had really meant to say was Esgaroth, you know, the area near the Lonely Mountain on the Long Lake? I know the two don't sound anything alike, but I was on a time limit, late at night, my brain was shutting down… Well, to sum it up, Derek is from Esgaroth, down the river from Dale.

We take up the story as Strider telling Legolas how they came to be in Mirkwood…

Chapter Three:

Walkers in Shadow

 Time-swept dust and ashes were scattered across the village square, where the people of the town had gathered for an assembly. The long rows of hardwood benches, arranged in a circle near the village well, looked barren and blank in the late afternoon light. Normally, the square was filled almost to overflowing, and the children and youth would be forced to sit on the ground near their parents, or in circles with their friends. But now, although there were more than enough seats available, the few villagers huddled together preferred to stand in a circle around the well, debating in soft, but earnest tones. 

Their faces were haggard, creased with lines of worry and care. The women wrapped themselves in ragged shawls, drawing their dark hoods over wind-tossed hair. The men rubbed their fingers together to draw off the cold, stamping their feet impatiently, while the children played in the dust, creating imaginary castles and kingdoms out of the barren land.

 Most of the people gathered there had lost someone. 

A sober- eyed farmer laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "There were nine more hit today, four died a few hours ago. Mary is beside herself. She wants to take the children and leave the village."

"Leaving the village won't change anything. I've heard there's villages been hit all the way up to the foot of the mountain."

"We could go south, down river," someone suggested.

A young mother looked timidly out from her shawl." To Mirkwood?"

"Bah, Mirkwood," a farmer spat. "Accursed forest. I'd sooner brave out the plague."

Some nodded in agreement. A young villager stepped forward, eyes flashing.

"You speak like a fool, Jinn. Both my parents died of the plague. Both, in one day. You want to brave it out. Well, look at us, we're trying. And we're dying off day by day. Four died this morning. And there'll be five more by nightfall, you mark my words. We're next. I say we leave, now, while we still have the chance."

"I say we stay," Jinn interrupted. "I'm not going to be forced out of my own home."

"We could wait it out, somewhere in the south," an elderly man suggested.

"You want to desert the village?"

"Its going to be deserted Jinn, one way or the other," the younger farmer snapped.

The council was swiftly dissolving into a full-fledged argument, and the air grew thick with rising tempers.

"I still agree with Jinn. I think we should stay!"

"And sacrifice those who still live?"

"No! We go south."

"South where? There is no where to go!"

"What about Dale? Or the other villages?"

"Don't talk crazy, Token, Dale's way too far north."

"So what do we do?"

"Oh, who cares? Let's stay."

"No, no no no NO!"

The children stopped their play to look over, curious over the raised voices and loud exclamations coming from the grownups. One little girl, dark hair plastered against her dirty face, slipped a hand into her mother's fingers, tugging on them gently.

"Mommy?"

She repeated the call several times, until her mother turned away from the argument with a frustrated sigh, and pausing, noticed her little daughter.

"Yes, Brynn."

"Whose fault is it?"

Her mother gave her a wry smile. "Whose fault is what?"

"Who made daddy go away? Far away like you said, remember?"

"Oh uh," her mother searched for the right words, "Well, I don't... really…know."

Brynn frowned. "Oh. Why not?"

"Well, I…hadn't really thought about it before."

Brynn, barely four years old, had already lost interest and was skipping back to join her friends, her faded dress whipped like a leaf in the wind. Her mother, now with a thoughtful expression, rejoined the group by the well. Gently, she pulled her brother, Token, aside, and whispered something in his ear. Slowly, his face was transformed from frustrated, to contemplative, to understanding. He pulled Jinn aside, and relayed what his sister had told him. 

"Does she remember anything else? Hmm. Nothing else?" Jinn's face wore a grim expression. He turned to the others.

"It seems to me," he began slowly, attempting to gain everyone's attention, "It seems to me, that we are missing something. Something very important."

"Jinn," the young farmer sighed, "You should get a reward for just making the biggest understatement of the season."

In spite of the gravity of their situation, a few villagers chuckled at the comment. 

Jinn was expressionless. "What is your name, young man?"

"Derek."

"Well, Derek, I wish you would give me a few moments to address the other villagers."

Derek smirked. "Wish away."

"Ahem!" Jinn cleared his throat loudly. "For anyone who does want to know, it has been brought to my attention, that we need…a scapegoat."

"A scapegoat?" someone echoed.

"A scapegoat." Jinn glared at them seriously. "Someone on whom to blame this whole epidemic of disastrous effect. Any suggestions?"

"Nothing happens for nothing," Token agreed. "Either this is some kind of punishment, or someone caused it. I tend to believe the latter."

Jinn raised his hands. "Does anyone, anyone at all, remember seeing anyone unusual in this village? Anyone acting strangely?"

"I saw that peddler, Josef yesterday," a woman suggested.

Derek snorted. "He always acts strange. Anyone else?"

"What about that old man who wanders around? I think he's slightly touched in the head. Did anyone see him?"

Jinn saw the blank looks directed at him. He looked to Token for assistance.

"Anyone?"

Token shrugged.

"Did anyone see-"

"Jinn," Derek interrupted, "I think that there are so many old men, slightly touched in the head, wandering around, that place the blame on a single man."

"You mean it might be like, a confederation of them?"

Derek howled in frustration. "Look, Jinn, just forget the old men, okay? I don't think they're going to help us right now."

The villagers were silent, and another man stepped forward.

 "Listen, friends. I'm not asking you to believe me, but I think that I know who you are looking for."

They all leaned forward in anticipation.

 "A few days ago," he continued, "A man came to our village. He was tall, and wore a dark, billowing cape that draped the ground about his feet. It was late at night, when he came to our door and asked for shelter. I knew there was something not altogether right about him, but my mother, being the soft- hearted woman she is, begged me to let the poor man in. As it was raining, I said he could come in, but he would have to sleep in the stables. I sat across from him at dinner, and the whole time I watched him peering and sneaking about the room with those great yellow eyes of his-"

"Did you say yellow?" Token cut in. "Because my cousin in Windermere told me almost the same exact story the other day."

"Is he still alive?" Derek asked eagerly.

"I haven't heard from him since. He left for home that very day."

"Anyway," the man said, "I was thinking maybe he's to blame."

Shaking his head, Derek disagreed. "You're just randomly picking this man out, because he had yellow eyes. What if I had yellow eyes? Would you blame the epidemic on me?"

"Uh, yes. Probably."

 "Oh, this is hopeless!" he threw up his hands in frustration.

"Oh, wait, there was one other thing." The man said, "My father died the morning after he left."

Silence ensued, as the people exchanged worried glances. 

"Coincidence," Derek stated.

"No, my mother died that afternoon."

"Ha!" Jinn pointed a wiry finger at Derek, "It's just as I told you. Yellow Eyes is to blame!"

And for once, Derek had nothing to say. The solemn atmosphere suddenly dissolved into widespread panic.

"He is spreading the epidemic everywhere he goes! His breath is a poisonous fume!"

"Woah, woah, I think we're jumping ahead here," someone began.

"Is he still in the village? Let's find him and question him!"

"He left a few days ago, like I said."

"How many?"

"I don't know."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"I…let me think."

"Think! Where!"

"He said…he was going.. South."

"Where South? Mirkwood?"

"I don't remember. He didn't say."

"I don't think there was any reason in any of that to go chasing after some random traveler," Legolas stated. 

Derek stared at him solemnly. "I think there is a very good reason. He killed my parents."

"Derek," Legolas said patronizingly. "I think that you're just overreacting, and furthermore, if you just wait a few weeks you will eventually realize that-"

Derek's face flushed with anger. "Waiting won't help. My parents are dead, and I'm probably next!" 

Strider, who was stuck between the two of them, winced at the volume. He knew that, more than almost anything in the world, Legolas loved a good argument. And from the icy expression on his face, it was evident that he was prepared to stand his ground. Strider braced himself for the next blow. 

"You will eventually realize," Legolas continued as if he had never been interrupted, "That it was no more that a simple epidemic, and nothing at all to get excited about."

Derek stopped, grabbed Legolas' arm in midstep, forcing him to a stop. His voice was like ice. "To you, perhaps, Elf," he emphasized the last word, "It is nothing at all to get excited about, because you have thousands and thousands of years ahead of you. We lower beings, however, have our short, little existences to protect, and cherish, and survive through. Thus, what you call a simple epidemic just may have a larger affect on our lives that you, apparently, will never be able to understand."

Legolas was staring at Derek's hand, which rested on the silver sleeve of his tunic. With a sudden, uncharacteristic jerk, he pulled away and resumed walking, faster. But Strider had seen the expression in his eyes. He ran to catch up, putting a hand on Legolas' shoulder, which was roughly pulled away.

"Your friend," Legolas said coldly, "Is falling behind. I suggest you tell him to keep up, because I will not wait for him."

Strider did not flinch at the remark. "Legolas, calm down. You know he didn't mean what he said." When Legolas did not look at him, Strider continued, his temper rising. "He is hurting too, Legolas."

"I hadn't noticed. Thank you for bringing it to my attention."

Strider stopped, but Legolas continued walking. "Legolas," he called desperately. "Legolas, please stop this."

The Elf did not answer, or turn, but Strider noticed a barely perceptible sigh escaped his lips. Gradually he slowed to a normal pace. 

For a while, they were silent. The rest of the men wondered what was going on, why their Elf companion was so far ahead, and why he wouldn't answer any of their questions. Derek glanced apologetically at Strider. "I'm sorry."

"You should be." Strider hadn't really meant to sound angry, but he felt his temper getting the better of him.

"I shouldn't have said those things. Is he angry?" Derek whispered. 

Strider shook his head. Legolas wasn't angry. He was absolutely furious.  

TBC….


	4. Chapter Four

Author's Note: For those of you who are tired of Strider, Derek, and Legolas, this chapter let's you get a little more familiar with the rest of the company. 

Disclaimer: All lost kings of Gondor belong to Tolkien. Legolas, Thranduil, and Mirkwood belong to Tolkien. The beleaguered men of Esgaroth are my invention, but Esgaroth too belongs to Tolkien. 

Thanks to everyone who was kind enough to review my story! If did not review my story, I encourage you to be kind and do so. I mean, really! It only takes about 30 seconds out of your busy life. TTFN.

Chapter Four

A Safe Haven

"In a great cave some miles within the edge of Mirkwood on its eastern side there lived at this time an elven king. Before his huge doors of stone, a river ran out of the heights of the forest and flowed on and out into the marshes at the feet of the high wooded lands. This great cave, from which countless smaller ones opened out on every side, wound far underground and had many passages and wide halls; but it was lighter and more wholesome than any goblin dwelling, and neither so deep nor so dangerous. In fact, the subjects of the king mostly lived and hunted in the open woods, and had houses or huts on the ground and in the branches. The beeches were their favorite trees. The king's cave was his palace, and the strong place of his treasure, and the fortress of his people against their enemies."

-The Hobbit

A wide, wooden bridge, lined with lanterns, spanned the dark river that flowed out from the palace gates. The yellow light danced on the surface of the water, like so many stars in the gathering night. All who lived in the palace were now safe within, while the others had returned to their forest homes. The area seemed virtually deserted. 

Legolas sighed softly, waiting for the other men to catch up. He felt guilty for losing his temper, and for ignoring his friends. He stopped just at the end of the bridge, motioned for them to go ahead of him. But as Strider walked past, Legolas pulled him aside.

"Estel, I need to talk to you."

Strider raised an eyebrow. "The feeling is mutual," he retorted. "You acted rather strange back there, I was getting worried."

"I'm sorry. I was just a little caught off guard," he lowered his voice so none but Strider could hear. "That man, Derek, is he from Esgaroth?"

"That's what he told me."

"Are you sure?" Legolas insisted. "How do you know he is telling the truth?"

"Why should he lie?" Strider countered.

"Because," Legolas stared at him, and whispered softly. "He's wearing the ring of the Black Numenorians."

Nodding, Strider answered casually. "I know."

"Well?" Legolas prodded. 

Measuring his words, Strider slowly replied, "I asked him about it myself. He said he stole it from a traveler's bag when he was a child."

Legolas snorted. "And you believed him?"

"Yes. I did. Besides, if he was really Numenorian, wouldn't he prefer to hide the ring, and therefore his identity?" 

Legolas pondered this for a while, narrowing his eyes as if in deep thought. Suddenly he smiled.

"Alright. I accept your explanation," the smile grew wider. "I'm glad that's settled. Otherwise I'd be forced to deliver him to a fate worse than death."

Strider looked puzzled, and Legolas explained in two words.

"My father."

"Oh."

"As it is, however," Legolas continued, "You have me to intercede for you, and therefore, I believe that you are very well off."

Strider smiled sarcastically. "I feel so blessed."

Throwing him a look that would have frozen the slopes of Mount Doom, Legolas moved to join the men on the other side of the bridge. He stopped before the door, and turned to make sure everyone was accounted for.

"We haven't been through the formal introductions," he admitted, "But don't worry. I'm sure we'll have time for that later, assuming we survive the first confrontation."

At the word, confrontation, some of the men exchanged worried glances. 

"Before we go in, I have a few instructions that will enable you to overcome any obstacles that may present themselves. As soon as we enter the throne room…"

King Thranduil, son of Oropher, glanced up from the book he was reading, as the messenger stepped forward and bowed low before the throne.

"Sire, Prince Legolas has returned."

Thranduil frowned slightly, wondering what had kept his only child out so late. Legolas was young for an elf, barely over 3000 years old, but he was no child either. The duties of a royal prince, Thranduil mentally quoted his favorite lecture, are to his people, his kingdom, and most importantly-

"Father!" The double doors burst open wide, and Legolas entered, breathless. "I'm sorry I'm late. I-"

He stopped, remembering the seven strangers that trailed nervously behind him. Thranduil was staring at him, his face like chiseled steel. Legolas opened his mouth to explain, but nothing came out.

"Legolas Greenleaf. If you don't explain yourself and that pack of peasants behind you in less than one minute-" Thranduil paused for effect. 

Legolas took a deep breath. "They are not peasants, father. This," he indicated Strider, "Is-"

"I know very well who he is, we have met before." Thranduil said coldly, although it was not directed at Strider, but at his son. "What about the others?"

He scanned the motley group with suspicion.

Legolas looked at them blankly, suddenly realizing that he had no idea who they were. He couldn't even remember their names, well, there was one….

Inwardly crossing his fingers, Legolas motioned Derek forward.

"This is Derek of Esgaroth, Supreme Governor of the Village of  Windermere."

Derek bowed low to hide his confused face from Thranduil's piercing gaze. What was that crazy Elf doing? Supreme Governor?

"The man on the left with the red beard," Legolas continued slowly, emphasizing his words, "Is Darion, his General in Chief."

Thranduil nodded to Darion, who bowed low in response.

"These three, are members of his royal cabinet. This is his majesty's royal military advisor, Jinn Blanke, his majesty's political strategist, Token, and his Royal Ambassador."

The newly- appointed military advisor, strategist, and ambassador, nodded and bowed the king several times. 

"This, man here, is Captain," Legolas blinked, and looked upward. *Name, name, name* "This is the Captain. Of his guard. The Captain of his guard. He is escorting the Supreme Governor and his cabinet who are returning from a diplomatic mission in a southern land."

Silence ensued. Legolas was finished. There was nothing else he could think of to say that wouldn't sound utterly ridiculous. Then Thranduil, for the first time that night, smiled at his guests. They all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Rising from his chair, Thranduil smiled benevolently.

"Since my son speaks so highly of you, and as it is late, I ask if you would consider staying here tonight. My servants will attend to your needs."

The Supreme Governor Derek, bowed low again, and addressed the king for them all.

"Your Highness, that is an offer we would never dream of refusing. We are honored to be your guests."

As the servants led them out, Legolas fell in step beside Strider.

"That's wasn't so hard was it?"

Strider frowned dubiously. "I don't think-"

"Legolas?" the voice from the throne room was soft, but commanding.

Legolas froze, halfway out of the door. 

"Yes?"

"Would you come here please?"

Legolas smiled weakly. "Of course, Father."

Once inside, Thranduil requested that he close the door. After doing so, Legolas turned slowly to face his father.

"Legolas, why did you make up that story about the Supreme Governor?"

"I-" his son protested.

"Legolas." Thranduil warned him.

"You told me to explain them, so I did."

"You made it up." Thranduil accused.

"You didn't say it had to be true!"

Thranduil sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

"Go and call Aragorn. Both of you are going to tell me what is really going on."


	5. Chapter Five

Author's Note: Hehehe, beware; my stories contain subliminal messages that influence you to give me nice reviews. So far, they seem to be working. Sorry this took so long! I had a few stumped moments, and a research paper on the French Revolution to attend to.

Disclaimer: Aragorn, Legolas, and Thranduil are Tolkien's. The Supreme Governor and his court, belong to me.

Chapter Five

Getting Acquainted

Someone pushed open the door to the room where Derek was staying. The men who had gathered there looked up expectantly, letting out a breath of relief when a familiar face appeared in the opening.

"Is the Supreme Governor in?" Legolas asked innocently.

Derek groaned, walked over and pulled him inside. "Next time, let Strider do the introductions, understand?"

Strider, who walked in after him, glanced curiously at all the men seated around the floor in Derek's room. "What's wrong?"

"Everybody wanted the room with the window," Legolas teased. 

"Everybody wanted the room farthest away from yours," Strider retorted. "Last time I came here, I was up half the night listening to your chanting."

Legolas looked indignant. "Chanting? I was singing. You, apparently, are not experienced enough to tell the difference. I was trying to drown out the sound of your snores."

Derek interrupted them anxiously. "Why did you two go back to the throne room? What happened?"

Strider opened his mouth to reply, but Legolas interrupted him. 

"Nothing happened."

"What happened?" Derek repeated suspiciously, raising his voice a notch.

Sighing dramatically, Strider massaged a cramp on the back of his neck.

"Let's call it, confessions of a guilty prince."

"What?"

"Strider," Legolas threw him a reproving glare, "It wasn't that bad. I just told him- my father- a little bit about your quest, you know, just the general outline."

"You told him everything," Strider reminded him.

"Oh, well, I guess you could call it that," Legolas admitted reluctantly, then suddenly began to protest. "I didn't really have a choice. He notices everything! Sometimes I think he knows how to read my mind. I'm sorry. " he added apologetically.

Derek looked aghast. "I can't believe this. I don't believe this! You should have just told him the truth. Now he thinks we're nothing but a bunch of no-goods!"

"I think he always thought that," Legolas pointed out. "Anyway, you're in luck. Since its night already, he won't send you packing until tomorrow."

"Why is your father so negative towards humans?" one of the men asked curiously.

"To borrow from Strider," Legolas answered curtly, "It's none of your business."

This comment was followed by a rather uncomfortable silence, during which Strider wondered, *When did I say that?*

Legolas, oblivious to the reaction his remark had caused, or else choosing to ignore it, was settling himself in a seat by the fireplace. He sat cross- legged, resting his chin on his hand, and looked up at the silent group.

 "You told me how you got to Mirkwood, but you didn't say how you got Strider to come with you."

Strider, realizing that Legolas was trying to change the subject, complied. If they were going to continue discussing all the grievances between elves and men, elves and dwarves, elves and- well, the likelihood was that all the men would end up pointing out that it was the elves' fault to begin with.

"I met them near Mirkwood, three days after they set out from the village on the Long River," Strider began. "They told me their story. Three days earlier, I had seen a lone traveler walking South, the same as the villager's description. With my direction, their tracker was able to pick up his trail. We have followed it this far. But what he could want in Mirkwood, we have yet to discover. They are sure, however, that this traveler is Yellow Eyes, and that he is the man they want. But there appears to be no motive."

Legolas seemed to ponder this for a while, features growing hard with concentration. The dancing flames in the fireplace dwindled, and some of the men nodded, fighting to stay awake. Strider watched his friend in silence.

"Tell me about your parents," Legolas said finally. But he was looking at Derek.

Startled out of his reverie, Derek stared at him questioningly. "My parents?"

Legolas nodded silently.

Not sure where to begin, Derek hesitated. He tried to organize the thoughts and emotions that came flooding back into coherent memories, but they wouldn't cooperate. So he told them as they came.

"My mother used to smile," Derek began. "She smiled all the time. Especially when it rained. She loved the rain, because it made things grow. My parents used to stand out in the rain and soak themselves to the bone, for no reason at all. My father loved my mother, very, very much. They used to go for walks every evening and come back late. There was a little spring they used to visit in the woods…" he faltered, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "I'm not really saying what I meant to say, but-" he paused, taking a deep breath. "I sort of feel responsible for it all, you know. I mean there's my wife and my children, I feel like everyone's counting on me to…be there." He frowned slightly. "Losing your parents, it kind of makes you grow up faster."

"You have to trust in your own judgment," the man by the fireplace added. 

Legolas looked at him questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"You're on your own."

"Well," Strider said thoughtfully, "Not completely." He smiled inwardly, thinking of his foster father, brothers, and sister. "There are some wise people left in the world."

The man laughed mirthlessly. "I used to believe that too." His expression darkened. "There's nobody looking out for me."

"Why do you say that?" Legolas asked.

"Because I have found that it is the truth." The man stared hard at him, until Legolas eventually looked away. He shot Strider a what's-up-with-him look, and Strider shrugged back.

"I never learned your names," Legolas exclaimed after a few moments. "Your real names," he added with a smirk. "I know Derek and Strider, but-"

The man with the red beard offered his hand. "I'm Lars," he said, "And this is my younger brother Eric."

Legolas shook his hand, smiling thoughtfully. "I think it very is strange," he remarked, "The way humans say hello. Like this," he grabbed Eric's hand, pumping it up and down. "Does this mean anything to you?"

Eric looked at him blankly. 

"See? Now this is how it ought to be done," Legolas demonstrated an elvish greeting, cupping his hand against his chest and then lifting it toward Eric. "It means I am with you, or I am your friend."

Nodding, Eric repeated the gesture. "I am with you," he mused. "It's like a language with your hands, isn't it?"

Legolas shook his head in agreement. 

Lars introduced the others. "That is Token Jarr, from our village. And this is Aronne," he indicated the man on his left. "This young man is Peter, my nephew," he finished.

Legolas acknowledged them all, suddenly growing somber. "It's a pity you have to leave tomorrow. We've hardly met. I'm sure you would have liked Mirkwood, despite all the nasty things you've probably heard about it."

The men feinted surprise, and shook their heads, but Legolas continued moodily.

"You probably won't believe it, but Mirkwood used to be called Greenwood, the greatest forest of the elves. A long time ago, it was as beautiful as any realm, even more so than Lothlorien, or so my father says. Lately, well," his blue eyes were dimmed with regret. "Things have gone from bad to worse. It is rare to see anything alive in the wood anymore; hardly any travelers pass through here, and those that do are not welcome." Strider watched his friend's expression darken. "It seems that every evil thing in Middle Earth is drawn to Mirkwood. Outside the borders of our kingdom, everything dwells in perpetual shadow. Orcs roam freely in the South; there is none to hinder their coming and going. Everyone thinks my father is destroying Mirkwood through negligence, and that his powers are weakening. They say that his greed and lust for gold have blinded him to what is going on outside. Ever since Oropher died, they say he is not fit to rule-"

"Who says?" Strider questioned softly.

Legolas' eyes flashed with irritancy. "Everyone."

"What do you say?"

Derek stared at the Elf, eyes searching his face for an answer. Shrugging, Legolas twirled a strand of his golden hair, and looked down. Strider laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, and gently lifted his chin until they were eye to eye. "You cannot alter the mistakes of the past. You can only learn from them, and move on. Who knows, but maybe you were born to healing. Legolas Thranduillion," he whispered. "_Estel."_

Legolas was silent for a few moments, then looking hard at Strider said, "Estel, you should heed your own words."

Strider began to smile, but Legolas shook his head. "I'm serious."

"I know you are. And I shall. When the time is right."

TBC….

Obviously at this point, no one has a clue that Sauron is hanging out in Mirkwood. They're going to find out soon, the hard way…


	6. Chapter Six

Author's Note: See Disclaimer

Disclaimer: See Author's Note

Okay, okay, Disclaimer in Chapter One.  Author's Note below.

Please Read and Review! Stress on the review part. Thanks to everyone who has done so! I am calling this Chapter Six Part One because the next chapter will be a continuation, and they are kind of hard to separate. Same night, same people, etc.

Chapter Six Part One

Strangers in the Palace

Strider flopped back onto the large pillow Legolas had sacrificed so that his friend could be more comfortable. The throb in the ranger's neck had extended to his shoulder, and he rubbed to sore spot furiously. Derek and Peter spread out their blankets on the floor next to the bed. The fire had long since been reduced to embers and ashes; outside a cold wind rustled the leaves of the beeches. Still rubbing his shoulder, Strider got up, closed the curtains, and walked back to the bed.

"How come you get the bed?" Peter complained. Barely seventeen, he was the youngest of the travelers, and the most prone to voice his feelings aloud.

"Because when Legolas is not here," Strider replied, with an air of finality, "I am the oldest."

He rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head. 

Sighing, Peter looked to Derek for support. "Is that any reason to make me sleep on the floor?" 

Derek shrugged. He was lying on his back; eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Peter shook him soundly.

"Derek? Are you listening to me?"

"Shush Peter!" Derek answered harshly. "Leave me alone."

"What are you doing?"

Turning his head, Derek frowned. "Don't you hear the voices?"

"You mean the elves?"

"Yes."

"I hear it. What about it?" When Derek didn't answer, Peter prodded him. "Derek, what are they singing about?"

"I don't know their speech," Derek sounded irritated.

"They sing one of the songs of Oropher," Strider answered from the blanket. "It tells of how the elves came to live in Greenwood, and how they delved great caverns for themselves under the mountain."

"Elves dig holes?" Peter asked curiously. His knowledge of elves was limited, but he had never heard of digging elves before.

"Well actually," Derek replied, proud of his knowledge, "Dwarves were hired to dig for the elves. But after they were finished, the elves refused to pay them."

Peter looked aghast. "Why?"

"Because the elves wanted to keep the treasure all for themselves."

"Treasure? There's treasure here?" Peter almost squealed.

Derek nodded secretively. "Deep beneath the palace, where no one lives, there is treasure. Mountains of it. They say the walls of the treasure holds are made of gold and jewels, stolen from the dwarves long ago."

"Really?"

"That's what the dwarves say." Strider interrupted sleepily. "But I doubt it's any more than legend and myth. Now get some sleep."

Derek shook his head. "I can't sleep here." He didn't know how to explain it, but somehow he felt on edge in the elvish palace, several feet within a mountain. Although Legolas had made sure they were given one of the upper rooms, he still felt uncomfortable about being surrounded by these mysterious creatures. He'd tried to talk to Legolas about it, but had only earned himself a blank look and shoulder shrug.

"I don't see what's the big deal," Legolas had said.

Of course he didn't. He was one of them. 

"So about this treasure," Peter continued in a whisper.

"Peter!" Aragorn sounded exasperated. "Most likely the treasure does not exist, and even if it does, I'm sure you wouldn't be able to find it." 

Peter noticed how he stressed the "you" part. "Who says?" he mumbled softly.

But Strider's ear was quick to catch the remark. "I say. Goodnight."

Derek turned over and repeated, "I can't go to sleep."

"Then please be quiet," Strider mumbled. "So the rest of us can."

Sighing softly, Derek fell silent, listening to the eerie voices outside the window, where light, ethereal figures moved among the trees. 

_The horn of battle called away_

_Those that came before_

_Some left the trees of __Greenwood__ Great_

_To seek another shore_

_Across the wideness of the World_

_They went under a starless sky_

_Until on angry plains, they met_

_And there prepared to die_

_Namarie, namarie_

_For those that came before_

_Have left the trees of __Greenwood__ Great_

_And shall return no more_

It was about two hours later when Derek awoke, and realized that the voices had lulled him to sleep. But the voices had now ceased, and he wondered what had disturbed his rest. Being a sound sleeper, it was uncommon for him to wake up in the middle of the night. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Derek glanced over at his companions. Strider, swathed in blankets, was shifting frequently, and mumbling something in an unfamiliar language. Peter, on the other hand was absolutely still. So still, it seemed like he was barely breathing. Derek leaned forward, listening. But Peter slept as sound as a dead man…

As the last thought flashed through his mind, he was suddenly filled with alarm. Swiftly, he pulled back the covers from his friend.

"Peter?"

But Peter was gone.

Derek sat up, searching for any sign of his friend.

"Peter?" he whispered, but no answer came.

He thought of waking Strider, but the ranger had given strict orders that he was not to be disturbed during the night. For anything. Ever. Sighing, Derek concluded that he would have to look for Peter alone. He pulled on his boots and tunic, all the while trying to figure out where Peter would have gone, all alone, in an elvish palace, at night. Feeling the blankets of Peter's bed, Derek reasoned that they should still be warm, if he had been gone a short time. They were dead cold.

  *    Peter wrapped his cloak tighter around him, hugging the wall as he made his way down the passage. The closer he got to the lower caverns, the colder it became. He was just beginning to wish he hadn't left the comfort of the upper floors when a light at the end of the tunnel caught his eye. He hesitated, expecting that any moment someone would jump out at him, but when nothing happened, he braced himself and moved forward. 

"If there is any treasure down here, I'm going to be the first one to find it," he thought happily.

At the end of the passage was a solid wood door, fastened with shining silver bolts. Peter turned the handle and the door opened with ease. Again, he hesitated, gaping at the stairwell that led down into a seemingly endless pit of darkness. 

"It sure is dark in there," he murmured softly. Then to his surprise, and alarm, the passage suddenly began to glow. 

Peter's jaw dropped, and he was just about ready to head back into his room, when the sound of footsteps fell on his ears. They were approaching footsteps, and were accompanied by soft, melodious voices, similar to the ones he had heard outside the window. However, while then they had had a calming, almost intoxicating effect; they now filled him with panic. Without a second thought, he lurched forward into the stairwell and fled down the steps. As he reached the bottom, the lights suddenly went out.

      The two elves that guarded that section of the palace stopped in surprise at seeing the door wide open. The tallest one moved to alert the other guards, but his companion stopped him, and whispered something in his ear. From his position at the bottom of the staircase, wedged in between the door and the steps, Derek did not understand much of what he said. But the other Elf seemed to enjoy the idea very much. He approached the stairwell and looking down, called out in the Common Tongue.

"Human, you seem a little lost. If you try the door to your left, you will be in the dungeons. If you try the door to your right, you will be in the old storehouses. And if you try to door directly behind you, you will find yourself- well," he laughed lightly. "That is a secret and so it will be. However, since none but the royal house of Mirkwood can open any of these doors, you will probably remain right where you are, until we see fit to let you out. Goodnight."

He closed the door, and the room plunged once again into bitter darkness. Peter shrunk down into a corner and waited. He waited for them to come back. Surely, they were only kidding, leaving him here all night with nothing to eat or drink, and no one to talk to. Perhaps they were going to tell Strider how careless he was, letting his charges steal around the palace at night. Then again, if Strider was not to be disturbed until morning, Peter just might be there all night. He sighed hopelessly, remembering what the Elf had said about the doors. 

"The royal house of Mirkwood, that must mean Legolas and his father…Thranduil." Unfortunately, both of the persons in question were probably sound asleep…

*Thranduil leaned against the door, shouting into the woodwork. He was dressed in his silvery tunic and leggings, crownless, with a gray robe thrown over his broad shoulders. His golden hair fell wildly about his neck. It was obvious that his appearance was the last thing on his mind.

"Legolas! Legolas wake up this instant," he spoke in a voice with enough volume to wake up all the elves from Mirkwood to the Misty Mountains. 

"Father?" a sleepy voice answered finally, "Is that…you?"

"Legolas open the door," Thranduil commanded.

After a few moments of silence, the door creaked open, and Legolas looked out, blinking slowly. "Is this important?"

"Legolas, I can't sleep at all. Those intruding strangers you brought in are making enough noise in their sleep to account for an army. I have been lying awake for the last five hours, listening to their mutterings. And if I do try to go to sleep, I have the strangest dreams," he frowned and fell silent. 

"What are you going to do about it?" Legolas yawned, rubbing his eyes.

Thranduil shrugged. "I am not altogether certain. I thought of taking a walk outside maybe. I feel stifled; the fresh air might do me some good. What do you think?"

"Take a guard with you," Legolas replied flatly.

"I was hoping you could join me instead."

 Without a word, Legolas closed the door. 

"I guess that means no," Thranduil said quietly, a trifle disappointed. "I'll be outside, if you need me for anything," he pressed his face against the door. 

"So I've heard," answered a muffled, but irritated voice from inside. There was a quiet rustling within the room, and then all was silent. Smiling quietly, Thranduil made his way out of the hallway.

  *For lack of anything else to do, Peter sat in the dark and whistled. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped himself in his cloak. He sang snatches of the elvish song he had heard earlier that night. He dreamed of the warm blanket he'd left upstairs.

"That was a stupid thing to do. I could have at least brought the pillow with me. I'll probably freeze to death overnight, and they'll find me here in the morning all cold and stiff."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," a voice said from somewhere above him. "I have spent quite a few days down here without incident."

Peter froze, and a silent chill crept up his spine. It seemed like the temperature had just dropped fifty degrees in the last five seconds.

"Don't worry, Peter, I'm not going to hurt you."

"How do you know my name?" Peter whispered.

"Will you do something for me, Peter?" the voice continued smoothly.

"Who are you?"

"I am a friend to," the voice paused, "The ruler of Mirkwood."

Peter narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you want? And why are you hiding down here in the dark?"

"I might ask you the same thing," the voice pointed out wryly.

"That's true," Peter nodded, "But then again, you could stop stalling and answer the question."

"Yes, I could. I have been waiting for you, Peter."

"Well, it's nice to be needed."

"Would you like to get out of here, right now?"

"This sounds like a bribe," Peter smirked.

The voice laughed, but it was anything but pleasant.

"I want to get into one of these doors."

"Well," Peter replied, "We all want things we can't have. You heard the Elf, no one can open the doors except-"

"I know. And that's why I need your help."

Frown deepening, Peter shifted to a better position. "Why am I suddenly feeling really suspicious of you?"

"I really have no clue," the voice laughed again. Suddenly Peter felt something approaching; he tensed with alarm, knuckles whitening. Something brushed his ear, solid, yet not material enough to distinguish from its ebony background. The voice seemed much closer now as it breathed into his ear.

"If you bring the Elf Prince to me, he will open the door."

"Legolas knows you?" Peter whispered in disbelief.

"We're old friends. Trust me."

"I don't."

"You must. If you want to leave this place… alive."

Suddenly Peter became aware of an icy sensation on his shoulder. He looked up in horror, as the blackness silently materialized into the form of a man. The white fingers curled around Peter's shoulder once again.

"Trust me…"

With a roar of panic, Peter threw him off, and bolted to the top of the staircase. He pounded on the door for all he was worth, hoping against hope that someone would hear him. Beneath him, the dark figure shook with cold laughter, and slowly started climbing the steps. Peter screamed at the top of his lungs, redoubling his efforts. The man approached him silently, an icy smile on his face. He reached out a pale hand… 

*Trust me*

* Strider pounded on the door of Legolas' room. 

"Legolas, wake up!"

He paced back and forth in front of the door, hugging the light blanket draped across his shoulders.

"Legolas! I know you're ignoring me!"

"I'm not available right now," a sleepy voice mumbled from inside. "Go away."

"Legolas," Strider pressed his face against the door. "It's important. Derek and Peter are missing. I searched all the rooms. I think Peter might have-"

He stopped as Legolas threw open the door, face a mask of disbelief. "What. What did he do?"

"I think he might have gone down the lower levels."

"The lower levels," Legolas snorted. "Aside from the fact that he is seventeen, why ever would he do a stupid thing like that?"

Strider shrugged slowly. "Well, Derek did tell him the story about the dwarves and the treasure…"

He trailed off, waiting for a response.

"Why, oh why am I so *blessed*" Legolas sang between his teeth, "With so many disturbances in the middle of the night!" his voice rose to a crescendo.

Strider stared at the floor; it was obviously a question not meant to be answered, for within a few seconds Legolas had slipped back into his room, and returned with a cloak for Strider, and a small light. 

"Here," he said, handing him the cloak. "It can get pretty cold down there at night."

He started down the hallway, and Strider followed.

"Be careful," Legolas warned softly, "My father woke up a little while ago. He went for a walk, but he could be anywhere by now." Opening the small door that led deeper into the caves, Legolas motioned Strider inside. Strider shivered as he stepped in the doorway, grateful for the cloak his friend had given him.

"You're right. It's freezing in here. Why do you keep it so cold?"

Shrugging, Legolas took the lead as they descended a winding staircase. "I don't know. Usually it's not this bad, though. I guess it must be extra cold outside. Did you say Derek was gone too?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful. Now we get to look for two explorers."

"Well," Strider said, "Look on the bright side."

"And what side is that?"

"Derek would never let Peter go off on his own, so wherever they are, they're probably together."

Legolas smiled wryly. "Now if they would just stay in one place, we should have no trouble at all."

   When Peter opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the concerned face of his friend. However, the concern quickly changed to reproach, seasoned with more than a touch of annoyance.

"Peter, what on earth are you doing?" Derek demanded, helping him to his feet. "How did you get down here?"

"I…"Peter stopped, frowning. He noticed they were standing in a small hallway, connected to the main corridor by a small doorway. Strangely, he couldn't remember being there before…

"What happened? You were lying there, screaming like a madman!"

Peter scratched his head. "I was?"

"Of course you were! Don't play dumb with me!" Derek warned, eyes flashing.

"No, seriously Derek, what are you talking about? And why are you down here so late at night? You really shouldn't wander around alone."

"Peter, if you don't stop playing around and tell me what's going on…" he left the sentence unfinished.

"Derek! I don't know what's going on," Peter protested.

"Why are you down here? You could've gotten lost! This is an elvish house, Peter, full of strange magic things. You shouldn't wander around alone!" Derek emphasized the last sentence.

"I was," Peter began slowly, as if struggling to remember. "I was looking for that treasure you were talking about."

Throwing up his hands, in frustration, Derek glared at him. "And I guess the process of thinking is just too complicated for you?" his words dripped with sarcasm.

Peter looked at the floor. "I just wanted to see it. I wasn't going to take anything. Anyway, I came down here, and then the elves locked me in, and then-" he paused, brows furrowing. "And then I can't remember. I woke up and you were screaming at me."

Derek shook his head. "Obviously those elves put one of their spells on you. You should really be more careful. However," he placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. "I am prepared to forgive you, if you promise never to do it again."

"I promise."

"Good, now let's get back upstairs."

"Are you sure you know the way?" Peter asked nervously. "These caves can get pretty confusing."

Derek gave him a look full of injured dignity. "Of course I know the way, Peter. Trust me."

Peter fell silent and followed him, wondering why the last two words caused a strangely familiar chill to creep up his spine…

TBC.


	7. Chapter Six: Part Two

Author's Note: I finally got a proofreader. In fact, I got two of them. One is an older sibling who gives good advice and corrects my mistakes. The other is a younger sibling who screams at me to finish writing, accuses me of plagiarism for the most ridiculous reasons, and reads the story completely backwards. Between them, hopefully, I'll have fewer mistakes. TTFN 

Disclaimer: Tolkien's characters belong to Tolkien. My characters belong to me. 

Reminder: Please refer to Chapter Six Part One to refresh your memory. Remember, night, Mirkwood…evil under the mountain…

Chapter Six

Part 2-

Illusions 

"This elvish architecture is amazing," Peter whispered in awe. "And these are only their cellars."

They were in a long underground hallway, wide enough for two or three to walk side by side. Two rows of stone pillars lined either side of the passage, and out of these sprang  life-like marble carvings of flowers, trees, and animals. The columns were spaced at varying intervals, and between them were laid smooth patches of some light- colored stone. Curved flower-shaped sconces leaned out of the stone, some held torches, while others were empty. Peter traced the finely curved back of a gray horse with his finger; the animal was so detailed it was only the size that prevented him from believing that it was real.  

"Amazing," he whistled softly.

 For his part, Derek tried to appear unimpressed. "They could use a few windows down here," he frowned with distaste, "It's rather gloomy."

Peter shook his head, amazed that his friend failed to recognize the masterpiece they were wandering through. He stopped walking and leaned against a column.

"Derek, what did the elves ever do to you? You're so skeptical."

"I am not!" his friend returned sharply, stopping to look back at him.

"Yes, you are." Brushing the long hair out of his eyes, Peter yawned softly. "You never listen. You barely gave Legolas a chance."

Derek's frown deepened at the mention of the name. "I don't know if I trust him yet. He's too unpredictable."

"That's no reason to dislike him."

"Look," Derek snapped. "At least I was civil!" The long night in this unfamiliar haven was taking its toll on him, and he felt his patience slipping away. It had cost him a lot to be nice to Legolas earlier, especially after the prince had gone and blabbed everything to his father, and then had proceeded to ask all those question about Derek's family. The elf had the tendency to be friendly one minute and angry the next, while all along maintaining an air of superiority that was enough to make any mortal feel equivalent with the ground beneath his feet. Derek's expression changed swiftly from regret, to confusion, and finally to frustration as the associated thoughts whirled through his mind. Peter shrugged and looked away; deciding to forestall further argument by pointing out, "Guess what? We're lost." 

"No we're not."

"Doesn't this place look familiar to you?" When Derek nodded reluctantly, Peter continued, "It's because we've been here three times so far."

Grinding his teeth, Derek ran a hand through his hair, praying for patience.

"You know what Peter?"

"What?"

"Next time you run away, you're spending the night down here. Because I *won't* be coming after you."

"I said I was sorry, Derek."

"Yeah," Derek's voice squeaked with restrained wrath. "Sorry. Right. I forgot. You're really sorry. That should make everything fine." his voice rose to a crescendo.

"It usually does," Peter mumbled under his breath.  His eyes lit up with a sudden idea. "You know, Derek, I was eating some of that elvish bread when I first came down. If we can find the crumbs, the trail could lead us to the door." He borrowed a torch from a nearby wall sconce, bending down to examine the floor. Derek watched him skeptically. Sure, it was an original idea, and the only one they had come up with so far (aside from wandering around in circles all night), but the process could turn out to be very time consuming. 

"Peter, I don't think this is going to work."

"You got a better idea?" Peter was crouched over the floor, but he looked up to throw a weary glance at his companion. "Because if you don't-"

"I think we should stay in one place. It might make it easier for them to find us."

"And who would be downstairs looking for us at this time of the night, pray tell?"

"Uh," Derek paused. "Well I assumed that-"

"Exactly," Peter interrupted in a voice that clearly showed how much enjoyed it, "You assumed. Now for realities sake, please realize that no one could possibly be looking for us, because no one is awake to know that we are gone. Therefore, staying in one place could only result in us freezing to death, while wandering around in circles clearly has its advantages."

Thoroughly confused, Derek made no reply, but stepped into another hallway to retrieve a torch he had just spotted.

"I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder. 

"No getting lost, Derek," Peter's disembodied voice floated in from the other room. A sudden, loud crash was accompanied by the sound of a distant groan as Peter tripped over one of the metal spires along the wall. 

"Sure," Derek replied calmly, shaking his head at the young man's naïveté. As the two youngest of the group, Derek and Peter had formed a sort of unofficial agreement to look after each other. Although Peter was often air-headed and reckless, and Derek was accused of being manipulative, it was a well- known fact that the two were practically inseparable. 

After walking for a minute or so, Derek realized that the torch was somewhat farther than he remembered. He quickened his steps toward the glowing light at the far end of the hallway. Taking the light from its elaborate holder, Derek turned back to where he had just left Peter, recognizing the glow of a torch moving along a side passage. Derek broke into a run.

"Peter? Wait for me!"

At the entrance to the passage, Derek stopped to catch his breath. His eyebrows furrowed momentarily as he glanced down the small hallway. Hadn't Peter been a little further down before?

"Derek? Are you coming or what?"

Peter's light danced in the shadows ahead of him, leading him forward. Straightening up, Derek followed the voice and the light down the dimly lit passageway.

 The absolute silence was broken when Peter heard voices ahead of him, accompanied by the sound of footsteps. He hesitated, not relishing the thought of another encounter with the Elf guards. 

*Elf guards?* Peter frowned, wondering why the thought seemed so familiar. As far as he could remember, he had never seen any Elf guards in the first place. 

*So, what made me think of that?*

Peter tried to retrace the course of the night in his mind. First, there had been the singing outside the window, and the conversation about the treasure, and then he had left the room and come downstairs…

 Suddenly the puzzle piece clicked into place.

The Elf guards had locked him in the stairwell. But how had he gotten out?

Lost in thought, Peter failed to notice that the footsteps were steadily approaching, until they were almost upon him. Extinguishing his torch, he slipped into the shadows alongside the wall, waiting for the two figures to appear around the corner.

"I think we're getting close. Listen."

There was a long pause. "I don't hear anything."

"And that, my friend, is exactly why you will never succeed as a tracker."

"And you will?" the second voice snorted.

"To the contrary, Strider, I already have. Peter? Is that you?"

Peter jumped out from his hiding place, dropping the torch in relief as he recognized the pair.

"Strider! Legolas! How did you find me?"

Legolas bent down to pick up Peter's torch.

"You breathe so loud," he remarked haughtily, "That unless one were as deaf as Strider appears to be, it would have been impossible to miss you."

Peter relieved smile faded at the harsh words, and his eyes strayed to Strider, who was eyeing Legolas with annoyance. Obviously, the comment had irritated him as well. 

Legolas, once again, seemed oblivious to the hostility around him, and was busy exchanging his little candle for the torch. His pale hair shimmered in the firelight as he held the torch up.

"This will last for a little while," he commented softly. "Where's Derek?"

Peter scratched his head, realizing for the first time that his friend had never come back.

"He went down the little side hallway back there a few minutes ago, to get a light."

Legolas eyed Peter doubtfully. "What hallway? There are no exits along this passage that I know of (and I do know them all) unless you mean the ones at the other end. Are you sure you saw one?"

"I think so."

"Well, sorry to tell you this," Legolas shook his head, "But there are no exits off this hallway. I'm positive. Perhaps you imagined it?"

 "When did Derek leave?" Strider interrupted suddenly.

"Several minutes ago. He told me he was going to get another torch, I'm sure he went down a hallway somewhere," Peter's voice was slightly more hesitant this time, and he shifted uncomfortably. He could feel Legolas' eyes boring into him, searching for information. 

"You're hiding something," the Elf was saying, with a knowing sparkle in his eyes. While Legolas was one of the most human-friendly elves of his generation, he was not above using a few tactics of elven persuasion on his various human friends. "You don't realize, Peter, that I can read your mind the way lord Aragorn here reads books."

So saying, he indicated Strider, who mumbled under his breath in Sindarin, "Then that would be hardly at all."

Legolas heard, and shot him a warning glare.

"Right, but he doesn't need to know that, does he?" he answered in the same language. He turned his attention back to Peter, who was watching the exchange with a slightly bemused expression. 

"Go ahead, we're waiting."

Peter spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. "I'm not hidin' anythin'!"

Legolas' eyes narrowed slightly.

"Honest I'm not! Well," Peter admitted slowly, "There are a few things I can't quite recall, but-"

"There! Stop." Strider folded his arms, eyeing Peter accusingly. "Now that was a guilty statement, if I ever heard one." 

"I can't remember anything!" Peter protested, frustrated that the pair were proving to be rather unreasonable. He waited for a sign of understanding from either man or elf, but none was forthcoming. "There is a passage back there. I saw it, and so did Derek. He went inside."

He stopped as Legolas made a choking noise in his throat, rolling his eyes.

"Legolas, stop that." Strider admonished him. Knowing how seriously Legolas took any argument, he added quietly. "Maybe he's right."

"Aragorn!" Legolas turned to him, a hurt expression on his face. He did not understand why his friend would take sides against him. "I know for a fact that he is not."

"Let me show you," Peter pleaded, "Come with me."

Peter reached out to take the torch from Legolas, but the Elf took a step back, an annoyed expression on his face. 

"I know the way around my own palace, young one. There is no passage." he snorted, and gave Peter a look that only could have come from Thranduil. Eyes flashing, he brushed past them, motioning sharply for them to follow him down the hallway. Peter stared at the retreating Elf, wondering if Derek was right to be skeptical of his kind. They were rather unpredictable at times, and he certainly could not remember doing anything to upset Legolas so. And for that matter, Peter noticed he was forgetting a lot of things that night…

Aragorn followed Legolas from a distance, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire again. 

"You see," Legolas was pointing out, "Like I said, there are no passages." Perhaps you imagined it?"

Though the question was asked as innocently as possible, still Strider rolled his eyes behind his friend's back, making a frustrated gesture with his hands. Although he had befriended the young prince years ago, and prized him as an excellent companion, Strider was slowly realizing that the benefits of associating with Legolas Greenleaf were somewhat undermined by the obligations of putting up with his attitude. 

 Peter was running alongside the Elf, trying to keep up with the reckless pace he had set. 

"Legolas, can you slow down a little? I think we missed it."

"I'm not blind," Legolas stopped suddenly, whirling to face him. His long hair flew like a whiplash across his face. "If there was anything, I would have seen it. But I haven't. So it doesn't exist." He turned his back with an air of finality.

Indignantly, Peter grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back. "Legolas, if I'm wrong, then where is Derek? And how are we going to find him?"

Legolas opened his mouth to reply, but a shout from Strider cut short the argument.

"Legolas! Come back here! Quickly!"

With a confused look in his eyes, Legolas hurried back down the hallway, Peter at his heels. 

"What is it Aragorn?"

Aragorn was standing in the wide space between two columns, and he had a torch in his hand. 

"I think I've found Peter's missing hallway," he smiled wryly, turning around so the torch could cast its light into the narrow opening.

The dim rays revealed a long, curved passage lined with stone, but decorated with the same elaborate patterns as the outer hallways. Peter moved into the hallway, motioning them inside. 

"I guess it's so hidden in the shadows, you may have forgotten about it," he continued, knowing the Legolas' pride was more than slightly ruffled at the discovery. 

Strider moved in to join Peter, who was holding out his hand for Legolas' torch.

"You see?" he said, as he took the light from the Elf, "I told you I was right. Let's go inside. It looks safe enough." Peter smiled encouragingly, relief shining in his eyes. Now that Strider had found the missing entrance, he was sure the Elf would understand, and everything would be normal again.

Legolas, however, was of a different opinion. After handing the torch to Peter, he still remained just outside the entrance, watching them with suspicion.

"Why didn't I see it?" he asked softly.

Half-turning to face him, Aragorn sighed patiently.

"Legolas, you're not invincible and you're not perfect. It was hard to see."

"You saw it!" Legolas answered sharply, and so suddenly that both Aragorn and Peter did a double take. 

"Legolas? Come on," Peter encouraged him. "We need to find Derek before your father finds us. Come with us. Come inside."

"I *know* it was not there. I would have seen it."

"Well it is here now!" Aragorn sounded as frustrated as he looked and felt. He understood that Legolas hated being this deep underground, he hated being confused, and he hated losing an argument, but the young prince was starting to get slightly over the top. Sighing inwardly, Aragorn decided to try the attempt-to-reconcile-by-giving-up approach. 

*Alright, Legolas* he thought to himself, *If you're too scared…*

But aloud he said only, "You can wait here if you want. We will be back in a few minutes." 

Fully expecting the Elf to protest at being left behind, Strider was shocked when Legolas only shrugged, answering non- committaly,

"I think I'll stay here."

"Are you sure?" Strider frowned slightly, wondering what was bothering his friend.

The question at first provoked a scowl from Legolas, but the expression quickly faded into a resigned smile.

"Yes, Aragorn, I'm sure, stop worrying."

 Grinning back, Strider moved ahead to join Peter, who was already a little ways down the hall. He looked over his shoulder one last time.

"Legolas,"

"Stop worrying."

 Strider made a mock- indignant face, then turned the corner and walked out of sight.


	8. Chapter Seven

Author's Note: This was originally part of Chapter Six Continued, but it got to long for my tastes, so I split it up.

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns his own people, and I anyone who was not in the books.

Chapter Seven

Dreams in the Dark

    Derek was racing down the long hallway, following the glimmer of the torch ahead of him when suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, his light went out. 

   "Peter?"

His voice echoed alone in the deep stillness. 

   "Peter, wait for me. My light's just gone out."

As he waited in vain for an answer, Derek shifted uncomfortably on his feet. 

   "Peter?" he ventured again.

Fearing to move because he could not see where he was going, Derek backed up against the cold, stone wall. He noticed the torch he had been following had continued moving, regardless of his calls. He also noticed that it was getting smaller and dimmer by the second.

   "Answer me!"

Derek bolted forward into the dark, tripped, and fell on his face. When he looked up, slightly dazed, the light was gone. 

   "Peter, this is not funny," Derek whispered angrily, trying to pull himself up to a sitting position.

To his surprise, and dismay, he found that he could not. Though his hands roved wildly for a firm surface to support his weight, Derek remained sprawled upon his stomach, limbs flailing uselessly. He had the oddest sensation that he was floating, and strained to see through the dark. He felt lighter than air, but the weight of the darkness reminded him of the way he had felt in the forest that evening, as the curious multitude of eyes stared out at him between the trees. It pressed him, smothering the breath out of his lungs. His lids grew heavy, and he felt as if he were very tired, as if he could sleep for an eternity. Shadows drifted in and out of his vision, shadows that looked strangely familiar…

Suddenly his eyes flew open, and his mind cleared, as he recognized the forms in front of him.

Peter. And Strider.

They were so close he could have touched them, but when they talked, their voices seemed very far away.

_*I don't think we should have left Legolas, Peter._

_I think Legolas will be fine. _

_He sensed something, I'm sure of it. We should not have left him alone._

_Its only a short way. Peter's voice was deceptively calm._

_We should go back._

_Legolas will be fine._

_Peter…_

_No! *_

As Peter cried out, he suddenly raised his arm to strike Aragorn, rage shining in his eyes. Eyes that were not his own… Suddenly the forms shifted, and disappeared.

    "Wait! Stop!" Derek cried, reaching toward them.

And to his surprise, relief, and utter astonishment, it did.

As the shadows shifted and cleared, Derek felt like he was coming back from unconsciousness. 

*It must have been a dream.* 

After his initial reaction, Derek winced, waiting to feel the floor rise up beneath him as he landed from his strange experience. However, he was pleasantly disappointed to find that, by some strange occurrence, he was already down, limbs flailing, his face pressed against the dark floor. Sitting up, he was terribly pleased and terribly alarmed to see the brightly lit outline of the doorway gaping out at him from the surrounding blackness. Wondering if it was another trick of his imagination, he hesitated for only a moment before clambering to his feet and racing out of the door.

Intent on his escape, Derek did not notice the figure standing in his way until he collided with him, nearly sending them both to the floor.  

The man regained his balance quickly, placing a hand on Derek's shoulder. "Derek, are you alright?" 

It was Legolas, and Derek breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad to see anyone at this point, even the annoying, self-assured, over confident, up-to-no-good Elf.

Well, maybe not. 

"Peter and Strider just went down another hall, looking for you. Where were you?"

Noting the look of concern in the Elf's eyes, Derek wondered if the prince had really been worried about him, or if he was merely worried about getting in trouble. 

"I was following Peter," he answered slowly, watching Legolas' face closely.

"That's impossible. Peter was with me."

"But I heard his voice. He was in the hallway with me-"

"What hallway?" The elf interrupted sharply.

"The one that was-" Turning, Derek faltered, "Well, it was there a second ago. It's gone now." He was only mildly surprised at this, for in his mind there was no limit to the mysterious and ridiculous tricks that elves could play on mortals' minds. In fact, he wondered if it wasn't Legolas himself who was responsible for the dream-like experience he had just escaped from. Seeing the prince in this light, Derek narrowed his eyes slowly. "There was a doorway there, did you see it?"

Legolas blew out a sigh of frustration. "For the last time, there are no passages off of this hallway!"

Derek smirked. Obviously, he had hit a sore spot.

"Maybe you just didn't know about them," he suggested, pumping a little extra smugness into his voice. "They seem to have a way of disappearing."

"Derek," Legolas snorted. "I've lived here for over a two thousand years. I know what I'm talking about."

The Elf looked down at him the way a judge would look down at a criminal.

"And what were you thinking, you and Peter, coming down here in the middle of the night? This is no place to wander around on your own. You could have gotten into trouble. I could have gotten into trouble. You are wearing out your welcome Derek, pulling pranks like that. You, and Peter, and your disappearing doors-" he rolled his eyes.

"Legolas, could you stop and listen for once? I *saw* the door." Derek was irritated that the Elf always assumed a superior attitude around him. His eyes flashed with restrained anger. "You're not everything, you know. You're not the center of the world!"

"I'm not?" The Elf's blue eyes shone with innocence.

"Oh you're just so…" Derek trailed off as Legolas flashed a cheeky smile at him.

"Impossible? Even for you. Admit it, Derek."

"Admit what? That I can't stand you and your almighty attitude? Consider it said."

"You really mean that?"

Turning on his heel, the man stalked back down the hallway without answering, promising himself to teach that particular elf a lesson in manners.

Legolas followed him, but the smile had faded from his face. 

Trying desperately to ignore him, Derek kept looking back periodically, to see if the doorway really had disappeared. But Legolas caught up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You really meant that." It was not a question.

"Meant what?" Derek's face was a model of strained patience.

"What you said. You can't stand me."

"That's not true. There's nothing wrong with elves. Strider trusts you," Derek sounded as if he were trying to convince himself of the fact.

"But you don't."

"I know some men who would just as soon kill you as look at you." Derek interrupted coldly. "Be grateful I am not among that number, and leave me alone. Please," he added, shaking Legolas' hand off his shoulder.   

"I'm sorry." 

Ignoring the hurt in his eyes, Derek quickened his steps. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Legolas stopped walking.

"Like I'm the one with the problem!"

Derek had not meant to shout, and he could feel Legolas' surprise and concern as he turned away. Taking a deep breath, Derek tried to change the subject. 

"So, umm, where are Strider and Peter? You said they were down here."

"I think we might have missed them," Legolas replied, emphasizing the "we". "We should go back and look more carefully."

"Speak for yourself," Derek retorted as he started to backtrack, scanning the walls more closely. "*I* was looking."

Legolas' eyes narrowed, as he caught the meaning in Derek's words. "So was I."

*Can't we do anything without arguing?* Legolas wondered.

"Then why did you miss it? I thought elves had exceptional sight," Derek asked sarcastically.

"I do. Usually." 

Scowling, Derek rounded on him. "SO WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?" 

"Nothing!"

"Something's not right here Legolas, and you're not telling me anything! Why do the doors keep disappearing? Where's Strider and Peter?"

"I don't know!"

"Yes you do!"

"Its not my fault." The Elf's voice held just a hint of certainty.

"Then whose is it? You know something."

Legolas looked very uncomfortable. "I don't know anything."

"Is it you?" Derek blurted out accusingly.

"Is what me?"

"Are you causing the illusions? Did you trap Strider and Peter in one of them? Is that why we can't find the door?"

Legolas looked shocked, and very angry. "What are you talking about? I don't have that kind of power. What do you think I am, a wizard?"

"You're an elf." Derek countered, as if that single fact was enough to incriminate him.

Legolas ground his teeth in frustration. "Derek, we're never going to get anywhere if you keep arguing."

"I'll stop as soon as you-"

"Hold on." Legolas cut him off in mid sentence, holding up a hand for silence.

Raising an eyebrow, Derek eyed him suspiciously.

"What is it?"

"Someone is coming."

**

Strider stumbled toward the light, vaguely wondering if Peter was still behind him. As his mind surfaced, he tried to remember where they were. He shaded his eyes against the blinding light of the hallway for; dim as it was, it was a drastic change from the pitch-blackness they had endured after the torches went out. Distantly at first, then clearer as he drew closer, Aragorn heard the remnants of a conversation.

"I don't have that kind of power. What do you think I am, a wizard?"

"You're an elf."

"Derek, we're never going to get anywhere if you keep arguing."

"I'll stop as soon as you-" 

"Hold on. Someone is coming."

Quickening his steps, Strider followed the voices around a corner. He stopped when he saw his two friends standing in the hallway, staring expectantly in his direction.

"What is going on?" he demanded, noticing the strange looks they were giving him.

"Aragorn! What happened to you?" Legolas' voice was a mixture of relief and concern. "Thank the Valar I have someone sensible to talk to," he added softly.

 Swiftly covering the gap between them, he placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder, examining him to see if he was hurt.  

"I'm fine," Strider assured him. "The lights went out a few hours after we entered the tunnel, though."

"Hours?" Legolas raised an eyebrow, slightly concerned. "You weren't in there for more than twenty minutes, Aragorn."

The man shrugged. "It seemed like hours."

"He's right," Derek interrupted. "That's how I felt too."

Legolas turned a curious stare on him. "What do you mean? You didn't-"

"After my light went out," Derek explained, "It was hard to breathe, and I felt like I was dreaming. I had a dream about you, Strider, and Peter, and-"

Aragorn's heart nearly stopped. "Oh no. I completely forgot."

"Forgot what?"

Without answering, Aragorn turned and raced back down the hallway. Legolas frowned, wondering what was bothering his friend.

"Aragorn?"

When Derek and Legolas found him a few moments later, he was pressed against the wall, vainly searching for an opening. The walls of the passage stared at him blankly, stubborn and immovable. Grabbing a torch from the wall, Strider held it up to the stone.

His face fell with disappointment.

"Like I told you," Derek said calmly. "They seem to have the ability to disappear."

"I guess that's why I always miss them," Legolas answered. He sighed, running a hand through his long hair. "Peter never came out, Aragorn?"

The man shook his head, without turning to face them. He was still in a state of semi- shock. How could he have left the boy behind?

Derek, who seemed the least affected by the discovery, decided to take the initiative.

"I think we should go downstairs."

Legolas blinked in surprise. "Downstairs?"

"Yes. I think we have a good chance of finding him down there."

"Do you even know what's downstairs?" Legolas asked incredulously.

"No," came the blatant reply. "Do you?"

"Yes," Legolas began indignantly, and then stopped as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Well, I've only been down there a few times."

Derek nodded, as if he had guessed that already. "Good. Then we'll be all the wiser for our trip."

"I don't think Peter's down there-"

"How would you know?"

Legolas was ready to throw out an angry retort, but he was surprised to find that it was Strider, not Derek, who had asked the question.

"Well," Legolas began slowly, "I don't-"

"Then why shouldn't we go down?" As Strider turned to face him, Legolas read the challenge in his eyes.

"I didn't say that," Legolas replied softly. *Why is everyone against me?*          

"Derek and I are going downstairs," Strider continued. Lighting another torch, he handed it to Derek. Then he fixed Legolas with a questioning look.

"I'm coming," Legolas assured him, though he didn't feel half as sure as he sounded.

Aragorn led the way, followed by Derek, and finally by Legolas. At the end of the passage was a solid wood door, fastened with shining silver bolts. Strider turned the handle and the door opened with ease. Legolas hesitated at top the stairwell that led down into a seemingly endless pit of darkness. 

"Go on," Derek pulled him forward slowly.

Legolas took a step backwards.

"Legolas! Time is running out!"

Whirling to face Strider, Legolas glared at him. He was feeling very uneasy about something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

"What's wrong with you? How do you know Peter is down there? What do you mean, time is running out?"

Aragorn's eyes softened, and he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I didn't mean to yell, Legolas."

Shrugging his hand away, Legolas backed up. "You are not acting like yourself."

"I'm just worried about Peter. Come Legolas. Please."

Derek urged Legolas forward.

"Its fine, Legolas. Trust me. This is where Peter was when I found him, and he might have come back."

 "But I-"

Strider raised a finger to his lips, motioning for silence.

"No arguments. Come."

"Why?" Legolas demanded.

"You would prefer to stay behind?"

Sighing, Legolas shook his head. Taking the torch from Derek, he stepped forward.

Strider threw the door open wide, stepping aside quickly.

"You first," he said.

TBC

Yes, Strider and Derek are acting very strange aren't they? I wonder why…


	9. Chapter Eight

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews and advice, everyone who sent them. I just got the most brilliant, evil genius idea for the second to last chapter! I know its way ahead, and I can't wait to get there! Muuwahahahaha!

Disclaimer: Tolkien's world, not mine. 

Chapter Eight

The Adventures of a King and his Companion

King Thranduil always enjoyed the pre-dawn stillness in the palace beneath the Mountains. Often, unable to find comfort in his elven dreams, he would wander throughout the empty halls, listening to the echo of his footsteps against the cold stone. Occasionally the soft sounds of a snoring elf would reach his ears, bringing a smile to his lips.

Contrary to popular opinion, some elves do snore.

He smiled not only at the thought, but also at the small comfort derived from the knowledge that at least some of his people were sleeping soundly.

For the king, however, peaceful, undisturbed nights were becoming a rare thing. No sooner would the Elf close his eyes and wander off into the realm of waking dreams than the shadows would return to accost his mind. Fearing to strengthen their hold, he would sometimes lay awake all night, staring at the ceiling. Thranduil remembered the many times he had been wrenched from a deep sleep by the cries of his son in the next room, as the prince fought with his own nightmares. Of all of them, Legolas had been afflicted the worst. Over the last few months, Thranduil had watched him struggle with his dreams, until the pain had compelled him to seek the advice of Celeborn and Galadriel. Under the eaves of Lorien, Thranduil and his son found at last the rest they had been seeking, and the wisdom of two of the oldest elves in Middle Earth. The Golden Wood was a positive change from the tensions of life in Mirkwood; no shadows lurked beneath its trees and Celeborn's elven warriors ensured well-protected borders. But ultimately the real protection of Lothlorien, Thranduil admitted with a slight pang of resentment, resided in the power of an unseen resource.

Although the elves never spoke of it, it was obvious to anyone with a reasonable amount of intelligence that at least one of the Three was being kept in Lothlorien. 

His thoughts shifted inadvertently to Elrond, whom he suspected of bearing another of the Three. In fact, Thranduil had gone so far as to conclude that in Rivendell was hidden Vilya, the ring of Air. During their last meeting some years ago, Thranduil had been on the verge of asking Elrond outright, but time and prudence prevented him from carrying out his wish. The lord of Imladris had promised some advice about the nightmares, but he dwelt far over the Misty Mountains, and communication between the two realms was slow. Thoughts of Elrond, safely nestled in his house between the mountains, brought renewed resentment into Thranduil's heart. Why was it that he, of all rulers the one responsible for the largest realm in Middle Earth, had not been given one of the Three to protect? After the death of Oropher, it seemed as if the other rulers had abandoned Mirkwood to its own designs. And although he would never admit it, Thranduil craved their advice, their help, and most of all- their power. The few gifts he had inherited from his father were apparently not enough to-

"Can I have a drink of water?"

Like a call in the wilderness, the question jolted Thranduil back to the present. Blinking in surprise, he turned to face the man who was standing behind him. Easily standing eye to eye with the Elf, the man had smooth tan skin, and a brow that displayed the weathering of many seasons. His light gray eyes peered out questioningly from the mass of tangled dark hair that fell down to his shoulders. 

"What did you say?" Thranduil stammered, trying to put a name on his face.

"Will you get me a drink of water?"

Obviously, the poor man had no idea who Thranduil was. 

The king stared at him, waiting for recognition and an apology. However, the darkness of the hall prevented the man from realizing who he was talking to; the Elf's face was one in a hundred he had seen so far.

"You live here, don't you?" the man asked when the Elf did not respond.

Thranduil found his voice. "I would hope so!"

"Then, can you get me a drink of water or should I find one myself?"

The Elf's face was a mask of disbelief. Not once, in over three thousand years had anyone ever mistaken him for a servant. He found himself answering sharply,

 "No one is allowed to go out this late. You'll have to wait until tomorrow." Slightly miffed, Thranduil shrugged his cloak closer about his shoulders and continued down the hallway. He wasn't sure whether to be angry, amused, or offended, but his current expression held a little touch of each. The man stared at the retreating Elf, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

 "Why?"

Shoulders stiffening, the king paused in midstep. "What?"

"Why is no one allowed out?" 

"Because the king commands it."

"Where are you going then?"

"It is not your business. If you are so eager to rush into danger you can get some water from the river outside."

"But you said-"

"On second thought," Thranduil paused, pursing his lips. Even if the man did find the way, he would never be able to open the door. Having lost peasants wandering around the palace all night would simply not do. Still, there were no servants around to help him…

"You'd better come with me."

 With a curt gesture, Thranduil continued walking. He quickly brought them to the very edge of the palace interior, where only the stone doors separated them from the world outside. The elvenking opened them with a soft command, motioning the man ahead of him. Outside, the forest still slept under the blanket of night, but Thranduil could sense the rising sun on its threshold in the East. The lanterns along the bridge had long since been extinguished and the light was not yet strong enough to penetrate the surface of the dark water. Beyond the bridge, the trees stood tall and majestic alongside the riverbed, their voices subdued or altogether silent. The man threw Thranduil a wary glare as the Elf stopped walking to smooth the bark of a beech tree planted beside the door. Ignoring the questioning glance, Thranduil whispered a few words of greeting to his silent friend. He smiled as the tree responded with the faintest rippling of branches.

Crossing the bridge, they descended the bank to the river.  

"Will I get you into trouble?" The man asked suddenly, catching the king off guard.

"What ever do you mean by that?"

"You aren't disobeying your king by coming out here?"

The Elf shrugged, picking up a handful of smooth stones. "It depends on how you look at it." He threw one out across the water, skipping it several times. The man watched him in silence. "I thought you were thirsty," Thranduil added, when the man continued to stare at him.

 "Your king must not be very particular about keeping the rules, if his slaves are so easy to disobey them."

Thranduil glared at him sharply. "The king does not have slaves."

"Whatever you call them then." The man shrugged. "Servant is just a nice word for slave."

Thranduil grimaced at the remark, trying to keep up a façade of indifferent concern. "Since you don't seem to be very thirsty, may I suggest you go inside and find another way to occupy yourself until morning? I have no time to talk with you." With a snort worthy of Legolas, Thranduil started to climb back up the bank.

"This must be a very difficult place to rule," the man called after him. "Full of difficult people," he added with a sneer.

Thranduil ground his teeth together in frustration, sighing inwardly. He wanted to leave, yet he felt reluctant to give up the argument so easily. Besides, he had a feeling the man knew who he was, and continued to taunt him in spite of it. 

You must be one of the peasants Prince Legolas brought in earlier," Thranduil remarked sarcastically as he looked over his shoulder. He continued walking.

"Maybe I am."

From his vantage point on top of the bridge, the Elf looked down condescendingly.

"What is your name?"

Smiling as if he knew what Thranduil was thinking, the man said, "My name is Aronne."

Bending over, he scooped some of the water into his hand and sipped it slowly. When he looked up again, the Elf had left the bridge and was walking a ways down the bank. Aronne clambered to his feet, running after him.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk," the Elf answered without stopping. 

*Don't you dare ask…*

"May I join you?"

Sighing, Thranduil adopted a look of annoyed patience. "Aren't you tired or something? I thought mortals needed at least ten hours of sleep."

"Only when we're young," Aronne corrected him, trying hard to hide his smile. It was amusing how the Elf was constantly trying to get rid of him, and yet he kept asking questions. "Anyway, I'd prefer to walk." He slowed to match the Elf's pace, adopting a look of casual innocence. "Where are we going anyway?"

"Nowhere," said the Elf with a flat expression.

"Now that, my friend, is impossible."

"Does it matter?"

Thranduil blew out a breath of frustration, running a hand through his hair. He was tiring of the aimless conversation, and wished only for silence and breath of fresh air all to himself.

"You want me to stop talking," Aronne asked suddenly.

"I am not enjoying it," Thranduil admitted. "We hear little of the Common Tongue in Mirkwood."

Nodding, the man sighed wistfully. "It is true, our people have little dealings with each other these days, and communication is slow. The little information that we do receive has always mingled fact with fiction, and it is hard to separate truth from deceit." The hint of something uncertain flickered in the man's grey eyes. "It has been said, for instance, that the wood elves have been forced out of the southern forest, because their supplies have run out and they refused to trade with the men of those parts."

He looked up to see Thranduil's reaction, but the Elf's face was a mask of silence. With a sly smile, Aronne continued, "It has also been…reported that there are great shadows brewing within Mirkwood, and that the elves are powerless against them," Aronne voice was tinged with sarcasm. "But you look surprised. Haven't you heard? Or has your king kept all hidden within his hold of many secrets?"

Narrowing his eyes, Thranduil turned a suspicious glare on him. "You think you can read my mind."

Aronne smiled once more, but it was more of a sneer than a smile. "Aye, that I can," he answered. 

"Well let me tell you something: I can read yours too," Quickening his pace, Thranduil continued, "You think we are weak, that we hide in our caves seeking riches and care nothing for the troubles of others. You think we are fools because we do not trust you mortals," the Elf stopped walking and stared at him, "Why should we trust you?"

"The people of Esgaroth are not so different from your own," Aronne interrupted hotly. "If you would open your eyes you would see that we are not your enemies. We would trust you."

"Then why do you carry a blade beneath your sleeve?" Thranduil accused, pointing out the hidden weapon.

"For the same reason that you carry one in your boot," the man countered quickly and placed a defensive hand over his sleeve. He fingered the blade lightly, noting how the Elf had suddenly grown tense. Aronne narrowed his eyes as Thranduil's face muscles twitched with concentration; he was no longer staring at the man but beyond him, into the vastness of the twilight forest.

"What is it?"

Thranduil silenced him with a glare, straining his senses in the direction of the forest. His hand strayed unconsciously toward his weapon.

"There's something out there," he answered finally, "And whatever it is, it's not alone."

 He paused, glancing at Aronne. "In fact, I think they may just be too many for us. You may be glad that you brought your weapon before the night is through."

"Who are you talking about?" Aronne looked in the direction the Elf was staring.

"Don't move." Eyes widening, Thranduil's voice was an urgent whisper. He breathed deeply, trying to calm the wild beating of his heart. "Don't move or speak. I need to think."

"I'm not."

"Good. Several feet beneath us, I believe there is an opening in the cliff. It leads to a sort of underground passage. Do you understand? It's underwater, under the opposite bank. We're going to have to swim for it. On the count of three-"

"We're going to run?" Aronne interrupted in a hushed, but offended tone. "I would want to die of battle wounds, not of a stab in the back."

"This isn't a battle and I'm not going to let you get killed from stupidity!" Thranduil whispered harshly. "This is a hunt. I think it might be a warg."

"Only one?" Aronne's voice dripped with sarcasm. 

*What is a warg?*

Thranduil smiled wryly; he had not been bragging when he said he could read men's minds. "What is a warg? Let me put it this way: You don't want to meet one alone. Because its friends are never far behind."

"Oh," the man sounded embarrassed. "Well how and why did it, or they, come so close to your palace?"

"I don't know, maybe the sound of your voice disturbed them from their beauty sleep."

Choosing to ignore the sarcastic comment, Aronne asked, "Do you think they're angry or merely passing by?"

A low growl from the underbrush forestalled further conversation. The darkness made seeing difficult, but Aronne thought he could see the bulk of something monstrous moving between the trees. Several pairs of luminous eyes glared out at them from the dark. He was so intent on discovering their owners that he failed to hear Thranduil's urgent whisper.

"On three. Aronne, are you listening? One, two…"

The Elf tensed for action, eyes darting toward the two rocks that marked the entrance to the underground passage. He measured the distance, fervently hoping they could make it…

"THREE!"

The Elf slid into the water with a loud splash, careful to avoid the submerged rocks along the banks. Aronne had jumped a few seconds after him, but he was not so particular of where he landed, and later on, he would have the bruises to prove it. The sound of breaking branches caused him to look back as the beasts charged from the underbrush, growling at the sight of their lost prey. Although Aronne had trouble distinguishing the beasts from their murky background, there was no mistaking the murderous intent in their eyes. One especially hungry warg plunged into the water and began swimming after them. Holding his breath, Thranduil dove deep into the water, feeling Aronne on his heels. He probed the dark bank with his hands, dislodging rocks and roots as he went.

Aronne looked up, and his eyes widened as he discerned the bulky shape of the beast swimming in circles above their hiding spot.

*Perfect. A swimming warg. I guess everyone will know what happened when they find our bodies floating home.*

 His lungs were crying out for air, and he grabbed Thranduil by the shoulder, indicating the danger they were in. The Elf shook him off, and as he did so, his shoulder brushed something hard that wasn't rock. He yanked the mud away to reveal a large metal grating, sunk deep into the earth. To his surprise, he found that it opened easily. Still holding his breath, Thranduil swam through the opening. He grasped Aronne by the shoulder and pulled the man inside. The grating swung closed behind them.

Once inside, Thranduil lifted his head and rose to the surface. The water tunnel was no more than a few feet wide; its upward slanting structure prevented the river water from flooding in. However, there was quite a bit of water to deal with, it was dark, and Thranduil was having a hard time getting his bearings. He had not used the passage in a long time, and a long time for an Elf is quite a long time indeed. The elves had lined the walls with pegs and handholds that they used to climb the slanting tunnel. Thranduil turned as Aronne emerged somewhere behind him, coughing and spluttering violently. 

After watching him for a minute, Thranduil smiled understandingly, "Are you alright?"

Aronne held up a hand, indicating that he was not in a condition to answer any questions. Still gulping deep breaths of air, he brushed the tangle of hair from his eyes. 

Thranduil's eyes were curious; he had not realized that being under water would affect the man in such a way. Aronne shivered, and glared daggers at him.

"That was *not* funny."

"I'm sorry," the smile grew wider.

"I can't swim."

"You did fine."

A waterlogged while caused of both them to pause, and Aronne edged farther away from the grating.

"I think he's stuck in the opening," he said, meaning the warg.

 "Well, he'll keep anyone from following us," Thranduil chuckled. Motioning for Aronne to follow, Thranduil began the short ascent to the top of the tunnel. The cries behind them died off to a pitiful whimper, and finally to silence.

"I guess that's that," Aronne murmured softly. He reached for the first handhold. "I guess they'll all be wondering where we are."

Thranduil shrugged, wringing out his long hair. "Legolas won't be. I'm sure he's fast asleep."

 TBC

Hehehe, little does he know.

Yeah, yeah, I know I completely skipped over the others in this chapter. Don't worry, I won't abandon them, they have a few more chapters to survive through…


	10. Chapter Nine

Author's Note: See after TBC

Disclaimer: Shall we state the obvious? This is a Lord of the Rings story. Lord of the Rings and anything to do with it belongs to Tolkien. The plot for this story and any new characters belong to me. Now, who didn't know that already? Does it therefore follow that writing a disclaimer is a waste of time? By no means! Because unless you would thoroughly enjoy being sued for plagiarism, a disclaimer is a very good thing. Indeed! [See how hard I try to convince myself?]

Chapter Nine

In Which Things Become Even More Murky 

Legolas descended the staircase quickly, his torch casting rays of light into the surrounding darkness.

 It seemed like the temperature had dropped fifty degrees in the last five seconds.

*Which would make below zero, because it is already freezing down here* Legolas thought grimly. He felt as if his mind was falling asleep, but not how it usually happened when he was falling into one of his elven dreams. Instead, this drowsiness seemed more like a lull in his overall consciousness, as if he was being persuaded to let go of his hold on reality. He made a mental note to ask his father about the matter.

"Legolas?"

Shaking himself out of his reflections, Legolas looked up into Derek's questioning eyes.

The man was indicating the door directly below the staircase. "That's the way, right? What are you waiting for?"

Legolas shrugged, trying to ignore the cold shivers racing through his body. Elves were never cold, he tried to persuade himself. Things like cold were just not allowed to happen. Putting aside his momentary uneasiness, Legolas reached for the door handle.

*Lasto beth nin, Edro…*

He breathed the words in his mind, pushing the handle gently.

The door swung open into a small circular room, whose walls were lined with dark stone and touched by the light of several candles. Three halls joined the room in a semi- circle, but no light penetrated their depths. Derek and Aragorn entered first, while Legolas paused in the doorway, scanning the room with suspicious eyes, but his earlier misgivings seemed to have been groundless after all. The room appeared empty and silent, but listening closely, Legolas thought he heard the sound of running water. He realized that they must be nearing the underground river, and was mildly surprised to find that they had come so far beneath the ground. Seldom did any elves besides the guards and cellar keepers venture this far, and as a prince, Legolas' excursions into the lower palace were few and far between. Even with lights, the underground palace felt oppressive to his senses, and the only times he had visited the cellars was to open the doors for the guards when his father was away…

His brow furrowed as a sudden thought struck him. When his father was away, no one could open certain doors except Legolas, in person. But at all other times Thranduil had the power to open the doors at will, no matter where he was. And although this arrangement could become rather cumbersome at times, it permitted the king to choose who was allowed in certain areas, and who was not. For no one could access certain rooms unless the king, or his son, first gave their consent. But the problem now, Legolas realized, was how had Peter opened the door while Thranduil remained completely unaware of it? The fact that such a feat was utterly impossible and beyond any stretch of imagination, caused Legolas to conclude that there was no way the boy could have passed through the door in the first place. Which meant that…

"Strider, Derek." Legolas turned to his companions suddenly, his back to the door.  

"Peter is not down here," Legolas continued, when they did not respond. "It's impossible for him to be down here. I think we should go back."

The two only stared at him, their eyes confused.

"What's wrong with you?" Legolas demanded. "Stop staring like that. Say something! Aragorn!"

It seemed as if his shouts fell on deaf ears. The two men continued to stare behind him, their eyes fixed on something Legolas could not see. 

Suddenly Derek gave a hoarse cry, pointing upwards through the staircase. 

"Legolas!"

The Elf whirled in the direction Derek pointed, hand flying instinctively to his side for the weapon that was not there. Eyes wide, he scanned the staircase for any sign of danger.

"What?! What is it? Derek!"

Bewildered, Legolas struggled to discover what the man was pointing at. His senses screamed at him; he felt as if something was approaching, but he just couldn't see it. Then to his surprise, and alarm, the passage suddenly began to glow. 

"Legolas!" This time the voice was Aragorn's. Rushing forward, the man pushed the Elf aside and reached for the door handle. Legolas stumbled, dropped the torch, and the room plunged into semi-darkness. He heard Derek's footsteps as the man ran to help Aragorn close the door. Regaining his balance, Legolas moved to re-light the torch with one of the candles off the wall. He could hear the men grunting by the door, as if they were struggling against something. Furrowing his brow in confusion, he reached for a candle.

Suddenly it flickered and went out, as if someone had opened a window and let in a winter wind. Legolas frowned, recalling that there was no wind beneath the palace. He reached for another.

"Legolas!"

"I'm coming!"

Abandoning the torch, Legolas hurried over to the door. Derek and Aragorn were against it, bracing themselves as they struggled to push it closed. It seemed as if they were resisting something on the other side. The door was nearly closed except for a small crack, through which they could still see the strange green glow in the corridor. Legolas stood frozen in place, watching the scene in silence. Aragorn's grip was slipping, and the small crack in the door started to widen. Eyes narrowing, Legolas moved forward to look through the crack. He could sense something solid nearby, but even the faint glow was not enough to reveal what it was. A breath of wind brushed by his face, biting cold against his skin.

*There it is again,* he thought, *But there is no wind down here.*

"Legolas!"

 He set his weight against the door, but the weariness he had felt before was even greater now. Something was moving out there on the other side, and the familiar feeling that radiated from it sent a chill up his spine.

"Athlaenin, Is that you? Isilwen?" He tried to recall who was on guard this night. "Alasse? Caranthir? Dinedal? Amras? Answer me!" 

A cold laugh interrupted his tirade, causing him to shiver uncontrollably. He felt his grip weakening as the laugh continued to echo in his ears; it seemed disembodied, as if coming out of something that was not quite real.

*Let me in.*

"No!"

A sudden thrust from the other side sent the trio flying backwards. Instantly regaining to his feet, Legolas threw his weight against the door, but without the others, he was too light. A wave of sickening panic hit him as the gap grew even wider, and the door began to shudder under the pressure. He felt the wind brush his face again; the few remaining candles trembled wildly, flickered, and then went out. 

Legolas let go of the door, as the room fell eerily silent. He could not see through the darkness, but he sensed the forms of Derek and Aragorn somewhere nearby. They were standing still, as he was, barely breathing. 

He listened to the wild pounding of his heart as it thudded against his chest. He heard the sound of the water running beneath the palace.

Suddenly the door swung open without a sound. Legolas slid away from it, crouching against the opposite wall.

 He heard the sound of a single pair of footsteps, moving through the room.

*Thud. Thud. Pause. Thud. Thud. Pause.*

Though his lungs cried out for air, Legolas held his breath. 

 *Thud. Thud. Thud. Pause. Thud. Thud. Thud.*

The pace began to quicken, even as it seemed to move away from them.

*It's going down one of the halls!* Legolas thought with dismay. He started to slide along the wall, not caring whether he was heard or not. *If it was going to kill us, I think it would have done so already.*

His hand brushed something soft.

"Aragorn?" 

"No. Derek. And you are standing on my foot."

Legolas winced, moving over. "Sorry. Where's Aragorn?"

"I'm here," the man whispered from somewhere on the floor, "Are you alright?"

"I think I should be asking YOU that," Legolas snorted, but his voice carried a note of concern. 

"Go right ahead asking," Aragorn smiled weakly, "But I don't know if I'll be able to explain it exactly. One minute I was convinced Peter was down here, someone told me…" he wrinkled his brow, trying to recall what had happened. "I could see it so clearly then. It seems ridiculous to me, I didn't feel like myself."

"You weren't acting like yourself either, "Legolas retorted, "Neither of you were," he added, looking to his right where Derek was. He felt the man grow tense beside him, and he braced himself for a tart reply. As usual, Derek was true to his nature.

"Well when we were trying to hold that thing back, all you did was stand there staring. Talk about acting strange," Derek accused him.

Legolas stiffened. "I was thinking."

"Fine time to think!" Sneering, Derek looked away.

 "Would you two stop shouting? We're not alone down here." They heard Aragorn shift to his feet and come to stand against the wall. Legolas turned to face him; his eyes were slowly becoming accustomed to the darkness. 

"It knows we're here, Aragorn."

"Yes, so why did it walk away? It could have killed us."

"It doesn't want us."

 "Well what does it want?" Derek demanded. 

 "I don't know," Legolas shrugged. "Don't ask me. We HAVE to get it out of here though."

"We?"

Aragorn could not see Derek, but he turned his head in the direction his voice came from.

"Yes, we."

"IT? I'm not going anywhere until I know what this IT is I'm chasing."

 "Then you're going to be here for a long time," Aragorn sighed patiently.

Hearing Legolas stifle a laugh, Aragorn threw a glare in his direction. 

Anyone who could laugh under these conditions was either very crazy, or very brave. And he knew that Legolas was at least a good amount of both. Which made him a very trying companion in dangerous situations. However, being a man, Aragorn also understood how Derek felt, especially since the man seemed to be ingrained with an underlying sense of suspicion of anything new he encountered. 

"I say we vote," Derek was saying. "Get ourselves killed on a wild goose chase, or go upstairs, lock the door, and pretend none of this ever happened."

"Nothing good ever comes of ignoring your problems," Legolas cautioned. "I should know."

Derek rounded on him suddenly. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing," Legolas shrugged, averting his eyes "But I don't think it's a very good idea to just leave. In fact, I think it's a very stupid idea," he added sharply, the frustration evident on his features. "We need to stop wasting time and find that thing, before my father finds US."

"What's wrong with us being down here?" 

"Nothing, I mean- what kind of a question is that?" Legolas seemed more and more defensive. Derek noticed this, and continued to press his advantage.

"It's just a simple question. What's the matter, your father never told you his Big Secret?" Although he had not had the opportunity to study many elves, the signs "discomfort" and "slightly guilty" were almost universal. Derek's smirk grew wider as Legolas' faded.

"What Big Secret? I don't know what you're talking about."

Derek adopted an innocent manner. "Oh, you know. Everyone has a Big Secret hidden somewhere. Maybe he made up that rule to keep you away from it."

"That's ridiculous. Stop trying to be clever."

Derek opened his hands defensively, "I don't have to try, I already am. Anyway, you haven't given me any reasons yet. I'm trying to be creative." 

"Pardon me if I stifle your creative instincts," Aragorn interrupted, "But it's getting late-"

"It is already late…"

"And I think this would go a lot faster if we all split up and took a tunnel."

The two stared at him skeptically, and Legolas raised an eyebrow.

"Aragorn? Considering the darkness, the unfamiliarity, the confusion, and small fact that a certain SOMETHING is running loose somewhere, do you still want to split up?"

"Why not?"

"Because Derek shouldn't be down here in the first place, let alone without one of us with him."

"Why are you singling ME out?"

"Because you're singled out already, Derek. You are probably going to get lost. And then I'll be forced to save you," the Elf added haughtily.

"I thought," Aragorn raised his voice before they could continue, "That since when you two get together the only thing that happens is an argument, by splitting up we could actually get something done. I don't have any weapons, but if we could force him into one place, and then we all jumped on him-"

His voice trailed off as he caught the expression on Derek's face.

"I must be missing the point, Strider, because this is sounding far worse than ridiculous."

 Legolas was a little more sympathetic. "I see what he means. But instead of getting that thing into a room, what if we led him down to the cellars where the trapdoors are?"

He noticed the quizzical looks on the faces of his companions and tried to explain. "I haven't been down here often, but I remember that there is a cellar somewhere, and it has trapdoors that lead to an underground river. There is a kind of sluice gate that lets the barrels through (that is what we put in the trapdoors), but it is always closed until after the wine harvest. So if we throw him in and close the trapdoor, he'll be stuck in there. Then at least we can go back to bed, and decide what to do about him in the morning."

Derek nodded grudgingly. "It might work."

"It *will* work," insisted the Elf.

"But what about the door?" Aragorn questioned, "He didn't have much trouble getting through this one."

"There's about a nine foot drop from the trapdoor to the river. He would never be able to open it. Besides, I remember it has a lock. Few of our doors have locks." 

"So now all we have to do is lead him there. Which could be a little difficult," Aragorn frowned, but Derek smiled sarcastically, putting an arm about his shoulder. 

"Don't worry, Strider, even if we poor mortals get lost in the dark tunnel, the all-powerful Legolas Greenleaf will save us," he said in a confidential whisper.

As he groaned inwardly, Aragorn tried to convince Legolas to reconsider.

"Are you sure you two don't want to split up?"

"Positive," the Elf nodded curtly.

Sighing in defeat, the Ranger followed Legolas and Derek into the first tunnel, mumbling to himself.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

TBC….

Sheesh, Sorry for the extreme wait, thank you for the extreme patience (BW, you are NOT included in that last category). Chapter Ten Coming Up, Sooner than Later….

I know, I make these promises that I strive to keep, but I can't stop the hand of Fate, so you can thank Fate for this seriously late Update. By the way, I got the elvish names from an Elvish Name Generator on the Internet. It's pretty interesting. Isilwen is supposedly my name in Elvish. The rest are the names of my siblings, friends, and parents. Pretty neat, right? Yes, I realize that this chapter is somewhat short, but I promise, promise, promise to update soon to make up for the shortness. Part of the problem is I'm working on another Single Chapter Fic, called Many Meetings. Hopefully I'll be posting that soon to. 

TTFN                                                                                               


End file.
